Page 1 of Skating Towards Danger

Prologue

Dante – Eleven Years Old

I sigh as I flick through the TV channels and plop my feet on Mama's glass coffee table, bored out of my mind.

My brother Roman, a year older than me, is currently off somewhere with our dad doing God knows what to God knows who, meaning we can't shoot some pucks. Mama has taken my little brother and sister, Giovanni and Bianca, to the new play barn in Brooklyn. So I'm on my own with nothing to do because apparently, I'm not allowed to go out today, which may or may not have something to do with me riding the gardeners ride-on lawn mower into the swimming pool two days ago…

It's totally not my fault, the man shouldn't have left the keys in it.

I huff. Normally, I like the quiet, and I like a little bit of me time. Gio is five, and Bianca is nine, so they're always inmy business, always wanting to tag along with Ro and me, and normally, it pisses me off, but I didn't realize how quiet it is without everyone here or maybe it's because I know I'm not allowed out.

School is out, hockey – something I live and breathe – is out for the season, and no one is here while I'm confined to the house. Heck, I'm not even allowed in the yard, which sucks.

“Maybe I should have taken up Rhett's offer to hang out here and play video games,” I mumble, “It would have been better than nothing even if Mama gave me a whooping for having him round.”

I sigh, tilt my head on the back of the couch, and continue to flick through the channels.

Maybe I should rearrange Ro's room to piss him off…

“You know Mama is going to kick your butt for putting your feet on her coffee table,” Roman says from behind me, and I still and not because I basically conjured him up by thinking about rearranging his room.

He shouldn't be here. he should be with Dad, training, but if he's here halfway through the day, then that means…

Oh, hell no!

“I mean, even if you wipe it, she'll know the woman is a witch or something,” he continues, but I don't react to his words, and even though they are true, and Mama is going to kill me, I keep my shoes where they are as my heart pounds and sweat begins to build.

“Shouldn't you be with Dad?” I ask, not turning around, refusing to, hoping he just came back to grab something, anything, rather than to get me. Meanwhile, I flick through the channels, acting like I'm still bored when now, I'm anything but.

I'm not ready for this, I know I'm not. I knew it was coming, but I'm still not prepared and honestly, I thought I’d have longer.

I don't want this life. I want to play Hockey, which my brother also wanted but unfortunately, we know there's no way out of this life, the life we were born into but I'm not the precious chosen one. I should be able to have a little more freedom.

Right?

“Dante,” he starts, and I shake my head, my heart sinking because, yeah, he's here for me but he continues, “It's time, little brother…I know you don't want this—heck, I didn't, and I still don't—but it's our legacy, our family.”

I scoff. He sounds like an adult and not the twelve-year-old heactuallyis, but killing someone at the age of eleven would force you to grow up sooner than you should, I guess.

He doesn't get to be a kid, he doesn't get to mess around with his friends and have fun. Instead, other than schoolwork—something Mama refused to allow him to miss—and playing Hockey—something he has refused to give up, and rightfully so—he trains with our father.

From the accounts and business to the torture chamber and how to shoot a gun under pressure. Every day he has to do some sort of training.

He's the next Don of the Italian Mafia, something he started training for last year after he killed our old gardener. The dirty old man had been sneaking pictures of our little brother and sister in an undressed state, and Dad gave Roman the kill and no I shouldn't know this, but he didn't want me to be pushed into the deep end blindsided when it's my time.

And apparently, my time is now.

Maybe I can run, maybe I can move in with Rhett or even Rocco, dad’s consigliere.

“Dad won't let you out of this, Dante, just like he wouldn't let me out of it. You're supposed to be taking over from his second David when I become Don,” he continues when I stare blankly atthe TV, my mind running around in circle, “He said you can still play hockey, little brother, just like me…”

Yeah, only until he gives it up that is then my life playing will be over.

If Roman goes pro, something he's dreaming of like myself, he'll get at least four years before he has to retire and take over from our father. Me, on the other hand, whether I play professional for a year, two years, or even three, it'll only be until he takes over from our father, meaning I won't get as much time as him, and I resent my dad and brother for that.

My life is planned out for me and it’s just not fair. I should have been happy with flicking through the channels instead of conjuring the idiot up.

“I'm never going to complain I'm bored again,” I mumble as I get up and glance at my big brother.

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