Page 163 of Vicious Addictions

“Bugie! Tutto quello che sento sono bugie!”Don Carlo shouts, his face turning every shade of red. “TheCosa Nostrawould never get in bed with the Bratva! Not even to torment you! Dimitri played you. He made you look the fool! And now everyone here knows it!” My father merely grins.

“Giovanni,” my father calls out, raising his open hand in the air.

My chest tightens when an uncharacteristically silent and expressionless Gio approaches my father and places a phone in his grip to reveal that the Bratva’sPakhan, Mikhail Petrov, has been listening to this entire spectacle from the very beginning.

“Good evening, Misha. Maybe you can enlighten Don Carlo as I fear my word is not enough,” my father says with an arrogant and smug taint to his voice when he flashes his phone screen to the crowd.

“Da, it is all true,” Mikhail admits with a deep-rooted scowl on his lips. “Dimitri betrayed me. And for that, he deserved a traitor’s death.” He spits to the floor. “After your call last week advising me of this, I made my own investigation on the matter and can confirm that he and his men were in cahoots with the Donatos to overthrow my claim to all US territories and yours on the East Coast.”

“Thank you for clarifying that to Don Carlo,” my father says, amused to see the blood draining from theCosa Nostra’sboss.

“Thankyoufor sending me Dimitri in a body bag. I made sure to place his mangled corpse and decapitated head in the Red Square for all of Moscow to see as a reminder of what happens to traitors.”

My mouth runs dry at the image Misha planted in our heads. When Dimitri’s body was shipped out to Russia a week ago, it was fully intact. Apparently, Misha wasn’t happy with keeping it that way, so he released his wrath on Dimitri’s corpse.

“Spasibo,” Misha adds curtly.

“Pozhaluysta,” my father retorts before returning the phone to Gio.

Don Carlo’s head hangs low, still looking like he doesn’t understand what is happening, even after being confronted with so much scathing evidence. Sensing that his life is more than forfeited, he raises his head and locks eyes with my father, the look of defeat plastered all over his face.

“I beg your forgiveness,Vinzenco.And I’m ready for you to dole out whatever punishment you see fits such a traitorous crime.”

“It thrills me that you agree such actions cannot go unpunished. Trust me when I say my vengeance will be swiftly conducted before we leave these woods.”

“I am at your mercy,” Don Carlo responds, falling to his knees, ready for what will come.

We all watch as Remus and Rolo struggle to keep Matteo and Niccolò restrained, requiring an extra pair of hands from nearbycaposto help them keep the Donato brothers still.

The only son who doesn’t try to break free from his confinement is the man Dom and I are currently keeping to his own knees—Carlo Junior.

Only once my father is confident that the two Donato brothers are in check does he take a step closer to their father.

He grabs Don Carlo’s chin and lifts it so he has no choice but to stare into my father’s menacing face.

“This act of contrition and submissive servitude might have just spared your life,vecchio,”my father susurrates. He then shoves Don Carlo’s chin to the side and turns around to face his eldest son. “I know it wasn’t you who was behind the elaborate betrayal. I knew it the minute Dimitri said the Donato name.”

My brows pinch together as I and everyone here hang on to my father’s every word.

“If you had any real intention to break free from the treaty we forged twenty years ago, you would have been much smarter at conducting your plan. As you so eloquently said earlier, you would never jump into bed with the Bratva, no matter the situation. And even if desperation led you to the Russian mob, you would have used the New York docks to covertly conduct your crime, far away from my prying eyes. No, Don Carlo. You are not the villain here. The man who struck a deal with Dimitri had to hide his efforts away from you, too, fearing that your cowardice would put a full stop to his ambitious plans. Isn’t that right…Junior?” My father then grabs Carlo Junior’s hair and yanks his head up for all to see. “You took a mighty risk conducting your business in Chicago. You believed the risk was undoubtedly worth the reward if your scheming paid off. Tell me, young Carlo, was your end game only to regain full control over New York, or were your ambitions greater than that? Maybe you thought you could eliminate the Outfit with your newfound Bratva allies and get rid of us altogether?”

When Carlo Junior stares into my father’s eyes with such venom, we all have our answer to that question.

“That’s what I thought,” my father says before releasing Carlo Junior’s hair.

He then turns to Don Carlo, who is currently staring at his eldest son with a mix of confusion and disappointment in his eyes.

“I hope you clearly understand your son’s wrongdoings and that his betrayal cannot go unpunished.” My father searches his face for something, and when theCosa Nostra’sboss lowers his eyes to the cold ground, my father must get his answer.

“Marcello,” my father suddenly calls out. “Show them how we deal with traitors.”

With those words hanging in the air above us, Marcello shoves Dom and me to the side, grabs hold of Carlo Junior’s head, and snaps his neck with one fluid motion.

“NO!” I hear a loud, feminine cry in the distance, which goes unnoticed under the defeating screams and curses of Matteo and Niccolò.

The instant Carlo’s body falls face down to the ground, chaos erupts as Matteo and Niccolò break free from their restraints.

Everything after that happens so fast that it takes me a hot minute to find my bearings.

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