Page 30 of Brutal Vows

“Alright, you skeptics.” I shake my head and pull up another file. “I took the book to do more research and had the paper carbon dated. It’s legit, the paper ranging from the early 14thcentury to the 19thcentury where the last dated entry left off.”

“I’m lost right now,” Adrian admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Where are you going with all of this?”

“TheGeryonbook contained a meticulously detailed list of tallying members right up to the very last entry,” I inform them, my fingers deftly scrolling through the digital files until I locate the one I need. When the document finally loads, I lean closer to the screen, my finger tracing a slightly faded line where a familiar name is elegantly scrawled in ancient ink. The parchment appears weathered, its edges tinged with the sepia of time, and the ink, though faded, still holds a certain dignity.

Fastello De Luca.

Adrian and Kenzo lean closer, their eyes widening in amazement as they squint at the screen. Their breaths hitch slightly, disbelief and excitement coursing through them as they absorb the significance of the name.

“Isn’t that your great-great…fuck, even greater grandfather? The one who started the De Luca empire?”

“Sure is.” I nod. “From what I can tell, he was part of theGeryonfor years prior to his death. Now, I am assuming that this isn’t the last recorded statement. There must be more proof out there.”

I am certain there is more evidence waiting to be uncovered. A clandestine organization like theGeryondoesn’t simply dissolve and vanish into thin air. They evolve, burrowing deeper into the shadows and bribing those necessary to maintain their secrecy. In 2006, two historians penned a book that delved into the mysterious world of Spanish secret societies, weaving a narrative around how the only link to theGeryonsociety seemed to be a work of fiction. This revelation caused an uproar throughout Spain and Italy, with a flood of witnesses stepping forward to claim that the historians were concealing the society’s wrongdoings. These actions only served to cloak theGeryonin even darker, more impenetrable shadows than before.

Taglia una testa e un’altra prenderà il suo posto.

Cut off a head and another will take its place.

The motto of theGeryon, a phrase steeped in mystery and tradition, is the very same one etched into the polished gold of the ring my Uncle Salvatore wears. It’s a ring that once graced my father’s finger. This enigmatic inscription also adorns the intricately carved Medusa comb that Megumi gifted to Evaline. If the paths of the comb can be followed through whispers and shadows, then perhaps the secretive journey of the ring can be uncovered as well.

“Kenzo’s mother uttered a phrase that only members of the society would know,” I tell them, pulling up another image of a three-headed beast, not much different from a hydra. “TheGeryonin Spanish mythology is a “many-headed beast” that is often associated with the IberianPeninsula. In Greek mythology, it is the same beast who was so famously slain by Hercules.”

“So, you are telling me that your uncle and my mother are part of some older-than-dirt secret society that is what–? Hell-bent on controlling factions of the mafia all over the world?” Kenzo’s eyes hold a glint of doubt, but I can almost see the gears in his mind beginning to turn. He is trying to piece together the fragments of my wild theory, his thoughts slowly catching up to the whirlwind of ideas I have unleashed on them.

“No.” I give them the truth. “I think they want people to believe they are.”

Their eyes fix on me, filled with questions and curiosity, as if urging me to speak. I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. My mind races, searching for the right words to articulate the thoughts swirling inside, trying to untangle the complexity of what I need to convey. “From what I’ve been able to dig up over the years, theGeryonis many branches, not just one.”

“Cut off one head and another takes its place,” Kenzo whispers, his voice barely audible yet heavy with realization. In that moment, a spark of understanding ignites within him, like a sudden flash of light piercing through the fog of his thoughts. The phrase echoes in his mind, resonating with a newfound clarity.

“Exactly.” I let out a long sigh. “Now, from what I can tell, the Italian-basedGeryonhas mostly devolved over the years and was obsolete until sometime in the 1970s.”

“Wasn’t that when your grandfather was murdered in Milan?”

Nodding, I pull up the reports that were filed by the police during the investigation. “He was gunned down in broad daylight and this—” I pull up an old crest, the verysame one that is stamped on my uncle’s ring. “An all-seeing eye surrounded by snakes was carved into each bullet.”

Kenzo scoffs dismissively. “Cryptic bullshit.” Adrian nods in agreement, a scowl on his face. My grandfather was not the most admirable of men. He possessed a ruthless nature, a tyrant much like my uncle, yet even with his harsh ways, he did not deserve to meet such a brutal end, gunned down mercilessly as if he were no more than an animal. It was intended for my father to accompany him, but then he caught the flu just a few days before their planned departure. I relay this significant detail to my brothers, ensuring they grasp the gravity of the twist of events.

“That would have handed Salvatore immediate rule on a silver platter,” Adrian hisses, his voice taut with tension as his fists clench tightly at his sides. His knuckles whiten with the pressure, and a flicker of anger flashes in his eyes. “There wouldn’t have been a single soul left to contest him.

This intricate web of events has been unraveling for far longer than any of us could have possibly envisioned. In my world, a son killing his own father is almost beyond comprehension. Such a heinous act, driven solely by the insidious force of pure, unadulterated greed, defies the very fabric of familial bonds and moral decency. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine, painting a grim picture of ambition gone awry, where loyalty and love are sacrificed at the altar of avarice.

“If we can throw Salvatore off our trail, even just a little, we can gain the upper hand.” I turn in my seat to face them better. “He’ll know why I am going after Fino, but what he won’t see coming is our allies. The ones who will gather behind us. Salvatore has made many enemies, and if we do this right—if we keep our moves to the shadows while alsomaking them known—we might just be able to take back what my uncle took.”

“Revenge for all of us.” Kenzo’s jaw tightens. “We need to let my mother free.”

“Why would you even think of doing that?” Adrian asks with a steady tone while waiting for Kenzo to elaborate.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, but I can see the resolve painted on his face in steadfast determination. “Because she will spill every last secret. She will be the Judas whispering in his ear. We let her think she escaped of her own free will and then we track her to him. Let her lead us right through the gates.”

“A Trojan horse.” Adrian grins, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I love it.”

Turning back to my computer, I prepare a software update on a small tracking device I had implanted in Megumi while she was knocked out cold before waking up in one of our warehouses. It is the same one my new little wife will be getting as well.

“She’ll be easy enough to track,” I tell them. “If we have it happen while we are gone in Boston, it will make it even less suspicious.”

Kenzo hesitates. He draws his gaze up to the second floor where Evaline is currently resting.

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