Page 47 of Brando

I stand up, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on my shoulders. “This is insane. He’s willing to drag everyone into this vendetta, and for what? To settle a score that’s been buried foryears? A score that died with our mother? He’s been harboring this all these years?”

Enzo nods solemnly. “He’s not right in the head, Brando. Anyone that holds that much hatred for that many years can’t be. He believes that by ending you, he’ll find closure for the pain he’s endured.”

“This is crazy.”

Lupe exchanges a glance with Enzo, both men understanding the gravity of my words. We all understand we’re not dealing with normal here. Far from it. For Frank Falcone to have gone through high school with this enmity towards me, an enmity that was still very much alive all these years later, there had to be something chemically wrong with him.

“What do you want us to do?” Lupe asks.

He’s ready and waiting for me to give him the green light he’s been seeking to unleash his beast. The man is an act now ask later kind of guy, but he’s an absolute monster when it comes to protecting me and my family. And for the first time in my life, I consider throwing caution to the wind and just telling him to go ahead and start his reign of madness.

“Get Lucky to meet with the Vicci family and sort this crap out so I won’t have to.”

The two men exchange a look.

“You sure, boss?” Enzo asks.

“You question my fucking judgment?”

Enzo looks down at his feet, his face reddening as shame coats his expression.

Lucky is as chill as they come. Diplomacy is an art form for him, but sometimes it’s hard to take him seriously when he seems to find the humor in everything he says and does. But I trust him implicitly, and I trust him to do the right thing when it comes to containing problems. He may not have the experiencethat Scar and I have, but when push comes to shove, he’s got a determination that ensures the job always gets done.

“No-one even knows who their leader is after Don Vicci was killed,” Lupe points out, letting me know that setting up a meeting would be next to impossible.

“Make it happen,” I tell him. “Do your job. Get Lucky to put out the Vicci fire.”

It’s only beenhours since we met with Jayson Caluna, but I feel compelled to meet with him again, if only to allay my own growing anxiety.

The truth is, I don’t trust anyone in Frank’s circle—not completely. Jayson may be feeding me the right information now, but that doesn’t guarantee his loyalty. If anything, it makes him a wildcard—an asset to be sure, but one that can easily turn, especially if the stakes get high enough.

But Mia... Mia is at the center of all of this, and nothing matters more than her safety.

I remove the tie from around my neck and undo the top button of my shirt before I push myself up from the desk. The weight of my decisions feels heavier tonight, the pulse of the city outside the windows a steady reminder that time is running out.

I can’t waste any more.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t need to look at the screen to know who’s calling—it’s Rafi. My youngest brother always has my back.

“What have you got for me?” I ask him.

“Everything’s set. Jayson’s confirmed the location. Are you sure you want to do this, Brando? You can’t be too sure he’s on our side, yet.”

I can hear the concern in Rafi’s voice, the same unease that’s been gnawing at my gut all day. I’ve already made up my mind, though. This isn’t just about Jayson; it’s about making sure Mia is alive. And Scar seems to trust him, so that’s more than good enough for me.

“I know,” I say, trying to keep the edge of frustration out of my voice. “I’ll handle it. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Rafi is silent for a moment. “Be careful, big brother. I’m worried about you.”

Rafi’s the one we’re trying to keep away from this life, but he’s probably going to surpass us all when it comes to running the show. People tell me he’s a younger version of me, but I somehow don’t see it. He’s calmer, more introspective, thinks on his feet and doesn’t let his emotions get the better of him. I used to be like that at one point. Until Mia.

“I’ll be careful,” I mutter before ending the call.

The elevator ride down feels impossibly slow. I try to quiet my thoughts, to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Mia and what’s happening to her right now.

The car waits outside the building, the engine humming low and steady. I slide into the back seat, the dark tinted windows hiding me from the world as we make our way toward the meeting spot. It’s a secluded warehouse, the kind that doesn’t invite attention.

We pull up a few minutes before the agreed-upon time. I take a deep breath and step out, my boots hitting the pavement with a quiet thud. The warehouse is deserted, a derelict structure which once served as a frozen food warehouse.

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