Page 104 of Stolen By The Bratva King

When I was six years old, this man terrorized me and ruined my life. I can’t let him do it again.

“You mentioned my wife.” I fix him with a cold glare and stand my ground. “Explain yourself, you fucking worthless asshole, or I’ll waste you right here and toss you into the nearest open grave.”

Reggiani wags a finger at me. “No need to be rude. Emery is in very real danger. Surely you understand that this is a time for diplomacy?”

He laughs in my face. “I’m fucking with you. You’re the big man now, right? Pakhan of the most powerful bratva in New York, no less! Your father would be disgusted.”

“Don’t talk about him,” I say. “What have you done with my wife?”

“I’ll get to it,” Reggiani sighs. “I had no choice but to leave New York after I killed your parents. I got married in Italy and spent years grooming my son for the mafia, preparing to return to the East Coast and guide his ascension to his rightful place—myrightful place. At the top.”

Ah, I get it.Reggiani kept his life and freedom in exchange for singing like a bird about mafia operations in New York and beyond.

No wonder he had to leave; he’d have been cut down in the street once that little doozy got out.

“You fucking traitor,” I say. “You sold out your own? Everyone blamed everyone else for how mafia society crumbled, and the law went for the throat, too.”

My voice rises in fury. “You killed my parents, good people who wouldn’t be dragged down by the likes of you.”

“Wrong,” Reggiani snaps. “It was the consequence of your sainted Mommy and Daddy refusing to take their place in the natural order.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway, Dante hid me out here and spent his time in the city, doing whatever he did. He sold me a good story about his trafficking business and some heiress he was fixing to marry. It all looked good—untilyoushowed up.”

Dante Firenze is really DanteReggiani.

The truth slams into me like a wrecking ball.

He must have known the whole damn time. If I’d have known this was even a possibility, I’d never have dragged Emery into my life.

I brought this madness upon her.

“So you’re the reason Dante was so hell-bent on getting to me,” I say. “You wanted him to finish what you couldn’t.”

“Bingo.” Reggiani’s smile twists into a sneer. “My son is done and wants to take Emery and that kid out of your reach so he can start again with his nasty flesh-for-cash endeavor.Iwant you dead.”

I have to keep it together. Dante already told me he has no demands, but Don Reggiani does wantsomething, and if it’ll save my wife, I’m willing to consider it.

“Why not kill me now?” I ask.

“Because I haven’t stacked the deck in my favor,” Reggiani replies. “Anyone could be watching, you’d fight back, all that shit. I can’t let you kill me again.”

“So what are your terms?”

“I will send you a message tonight with the address where we’re holding Emery and the boy.” Reggiani dusts imaginary dust from his lapel. “It’ll be a simple trade-off; your life for hers. Show up alone and unarmed, and we’ll spare her, but you won’t leave alive.”

I don’t care if I die. She will be okay without me; she still has her father, and Roman will make sure the bratva watches over her.

“And Desi,” I say. “Let him go, too.”

“Take him,” Reggiani says, struggling. “He’s worthless to me.”

“Why should I trust you?” I ask.

“Because I’m an old-school mafia man. Blood pledges are a thing with my generation; if you promise your life as payment for another, I’m honor bound to see it through. And I don’t give a shit what happens to your wife. As far as I’m concerned, I’m buying you for cheap.”

He turns away, and I can’t help myself. I draw my gun and level it at the back of his head.

“You should be rotting in Hell. My grip tightens on the trigger. “Tell me why I shouldn’t send you there for real.”

---