Page 4 of Rafi

They don’t want me involved in the family business. And I get it; they want to protect me at all costs. But sometimes it feels like they’re treating me like I’m a kid still learning to tie his shoes.

I’m not some spoiled brat who can’t handle the heat. I’m not that naive.

I’ve always dreamt of being part of something bigger, something dangerous. Yet the only danger in the job they’ve assigned me is if I break a nail. It’s not exactly the role Ienvisioned when I was a kid, but it’s where they want me right now. I’ve spent my whole life watching my brothers run this empire from the shadows. The power, the respect, the authority that comes with being a part of something so great —is just out of reach.

They’ve given me a safe option, something that won’t get me into trouble. Little do they know, my middle name is trouble. What they don’t get is that Iwanttrouble. I crave it. I want to live the life they’ve built. I want to take the risks, regardless of the outcomes. I want the challenges that will throw me off my feet. I want that excitement. I want to be part of their story, not standing on the sidelines like some afterthought.

They think I’m too young to know what I want. I guess this comes from my brothers’ desire for something different. They were primed for their positions; thrust into the life by our father who spent his life building the Gatti name. They think that given the choice, they would not have opted for this life. But I know better. Sometimes you don’t choose the life you want, the life chooses you. It finds you. Because it needs you.

Seeing Maxine Andrade at the fight a few days ago was a complete fluke. We’ve been trying for months to track down Mia’s sister after she was sold in an online auction on the dark web. She’s the only family, aside from the one that she married into, that my sister in law has left, and we’ve vowed to keep searching. Every lead so far has led to a dead end. This is the first solid sighting, the first real indication that we might be closer to her than we thought.

But there are reasons why I haven’t told anyone about seeing her yet. For one, I don’t want to get Mia’s hopes up, only to dash them again. She and my brother Brando have only been married a few months, and they deserve to be happy after everything she’s been through, so I don’t want to be the one to break her heart all over again and cause her anymore unnecessary pain.

Then there’s the matter of the cage fighting. If my brothers knew what I get up to in my free time, they’d lose their shit. I have no doubt they’d tie me to a chair in an effort to wean me off the ‘habit’. That’s also why I’ve been avoiding the house at all costs; there’s not many ways I can explain away the damage to my face once they see me.

I know if they knew I was on Maxine Andrade’s heels, they’d stop me cold. It’s too dangerous. Too murky. Too mired in an underworld we don’t understand. But finding her on my own, solving the puzzle before anyone else can? That’s my way in. That’s how I prove I can handle things. That I can step up and handle the responsibility.

I’ve been patient, waiting for the chance to prove I’m capable, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit on my hands forever. They’re too protective, too cautious, and I can’t let that define me. I want to show them I can handle more and that I’m not the kid they used to worry about.

And maybe, just maybe, if I bring this whole thing to them—something they can’t ignore—they’ll see me for what I really am. Capable. Strong. Ready to take my place at the table.

The only thingworse than a visit from my brothers is one from Kanyan De Scarzi. The Enforcer. Recently appointed head of the Moreno family. This, after Victor Moreno betrayed the family and Dante Accardi put a bullet in his head. I know this because I was there, watching in awe as the man showed everyone who’s boss. Dante runs Seattle like a well-oiled machine, but he burnt our city down in order to rebuild it again. It was rotting from the inside out, with so much turmoil and upheaval as all-out anarchy ran rampant. So he made some changes, and one ofthose was appointing the Enforcer, along with Mason Ironside, as a new family head. ‘New blood’, he said.

Which gave me hope—if you work hard enough and prove yourself, anything is possible. But sometimes, I wonder if even that’s enough.

Dante made a good choice. Therightchoice. Kanyan not only saved the lives of many family members when he crashed Brando’s wedding in a trailblazing show of courage worthy of an Oscar, but he’s also worked tirelessly with my brothers to help them restore order to the city. He’s a man of action, a man with grit and a steady resolve.

More than that, he saved our lives. More times than I can count. His quiet, calculating nature has earned him the respect of everyone in the family—and some real fear, too. Which, for some reason, only makes me admire him more. It’s not often that someone like me gets to see someone this methodical up close. But now, with everything weighing on me, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the façade.

I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to act casual as I hear the door swing open with a subtle, deliberate thud. Kanyan doesn’t knock. He never does. He just comes in, like he owns the place. And I suppose, in many ways, he does.

“You’ve got a minute?” His voice is smooth, cool, and commanding, yet there’s a hint of something else in his tone, something that makes me feel like I’m about to be grilled.

I turn around, and for a second, I almost wish I hadn’t. Kanyan is standing in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning the room, his posture relaxed, but I know better than to mistake that for ease. The man is always alert, always watching. He moves like a predator, coiled and ready to pounce on its prey.

I force myself to meet his gaze. “What’s up?”

He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes flicker over me, like he’s taking inevery inch of my being, before landing on my face. I’ve had enough of this type of scrutiny to know exactly what’s coming next. The bruises.Fuck.

“You’ve been fighting.” The statement isn’t a question, and yet, the way he says it, the way his eyes narrow ever so slightly, makes it clear that it’s not lost on him. Kanyan has an uncanny ability to read people, and right now, he’s reading me like an open book.

I try to shrug it off, downplay it, but the pain in my ribs suddenly reminds me of the nights I’ve spent in the ring. “It’s nothing.”

He’s not buying it. “Nothing?” Kanyan steps closer, his gaze flicking from my face to the fresh bruises blooming on my jaw and around my neck. He knows what it looks like when someone’s been in a fight, and these marks aren’t from some stupid street brawl. No, these are different. These are signs of something more personal—more dangerous.

I clench my jaw, willing myself not to flinch under his stare. “Don’t ask what you prefer not to know,” I warn him.

Kanyan doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He’s quiet, calculating, probably putting together the pieces of this puzzle in his head. Then, in a voice that’s lower than usual, almost casual, he says, “I won’t tell your brothers.”

I blink, surprised. For a second, I think I’ve misheard him. “What?”

His eyes meet mine again, dark and steady. “I’m not going to tell your brothers about this,” he repeats, his tone now more deliberate, each word carved with quiet resolve. “Are you in trouble?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to go into the logistics with him. But I know he’ll ask. And he does.

“Then what?”

“It’s something I do recreationally.”

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