Page 190 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

What with all the travels to Pozzallo, Gela, and Ragusa, I’d totally forgotten about the barn –

But as we headed right for it, I was filled with a sense of dread.

Don Vicari started talking. He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

“Isabella doesn’t think I read at all, but I do. Not as much as her, but some. History, mostly.

“In one book, I read that dogs basicallychoseto be domesticated.

“You see, the first hunter-gatherers were nomads. When they moved from place to place, they encountered wolves everywhere they went.

“At night, when humans sat around the fire, the most docile wolves would approach the fire. The humans would feed them, the same way that people throw food to birds on restaurant patios.

“When the humans left to find better hunting grounds, the same wolves would follow them. They would continue to go up to the campfires at night, begging to be fed.

“Eventually, those wolves would breed with each other. After all, they had abandoned their packs, and new packs wouldn’t accept them – so they only had each other to mate with. Because of genetics, their pups were evenmoredocile towards humans.

“After ten generations, you had wolves that gladly lay at humans’ feet and were treated like pets. In short, you had dogs.

“After that, humans bred them for different purposes. Some dogs pulled sleds. Some helped with hunting. Others became guard dogs. They began to look different, too. Long hair, short hair… long legs, short legs…

“Humans are like dogs, boy. Our entire race has selectively bred out the wild animal in us, until all that remains are fancy little poodles and lapdogs.

“But some men… some men stillarewolves. They were never turned into dogs to begin with. They’re wild and dangerous, through and through.”

We reached the barn and paused outside, where a couple of foot soldiers stood guard by a sliding wooden door.

They waited for a command from Don Vicari, but he didn’t give one. He was still intent on his story.

“I’m a wolf,” he said with a cruel smile. Then his smile turned into a look of disgust. “Rocco is not. He’s a lapdog pretending tobea wolf, and failing miserably. I thought I couldteachhim to be a wolf… but I was wrong. You either are or you aren’t.

“The question is… areyoua wolf… or are you a dog?

“I saw your wild side earlier when you dared to cross me.

“But is it just asideof you… or are you a wolf, through and through?

“Because, if you’re a wolf, know this:

“If you ever cross me again… I will rip your fucking throat out.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I believed him.

I wanted to say,Well, old man, you’d die if you tried it because I’d rip YOUR fucking throat out at the same time–

But there was something he wanted me to show me, and I wanted to know what it was.

“Open the door,” Don Vicari ordered the foot soldiers.

One of the men grabbed the handle and pulled the door back.

The first thing that hit me was the smell.

It floated out like poison gas – the stench of shit and stale piss and rotting meat.

It was ten times worse than San Vittore, the hellhole where Dario had been imprisoned.

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