Page 3 of Ludovico's Vengeance

“Don’t you think that will cause a fucking war?” Before I can jump to my feet her hand is on my knee keeping me in place.

Milo snorts, shaking his head as he waits for her to continue. My eyes dart between the two of them. I know I had asked him to protect her while I was gone, but he seems more comfortable around her than I’d like.

“Idiota.” My mother scoffs, throwing her hands in the air like she’s already fed up with my shit. Fuck, I haven’t even been back for an hour. “Don’t you think I would put plans in motion to avoid an all-out war? The Espositos will be putting one of their problem soldiers on the chopping block as a scapegoat.”

My eyes go wide, shock is an understatement of my reaction to this revelation. She didn’t just say that. The Espositos of all people? My heart beats erratically in my chest as I process her words. There’s absolutely no way! I know my face is showing my every thought when Milo speaks up for the first time.

“They know Lucia won’t be back. That part was their idea, actually. We just suggested it to Frederico.” He snorts and drags a hand through his short beard. “The old man doesn’t want her to have the family's money, so that part was easy. And on top of that, her family doesn’t want to be associated with her after what she did to you. Especially now that you are back.” Milo shrugs nonchalantly, as if to say none of what he’s telling me is a big deal.

With so much information thrown at me I spend the next few hours digesting it all in my room. Not much has changed since I left. I toss my bag on the chair in the corner before I collapse on the bed. The knowledge of what I’m going to do in just one day's time has my stomach in my throat. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve killed someone. Fuck, I’ve taken more lives than I care to count which is why I went into law. I wanted to put men like me behind bars; a way to atone for my crimes. Even with my past …transgressions. Yeah, let’s go with transgressions; my wildest dreams couldn’t have prepared me for what I’m about to do.

A soft knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Mrs. De Luca gingerly presses the solid oak door open. A soft smile on her lips as she crosses the room and places a cup of coffee and white saucer with a cinnamon bun on my nightstand without saying a word. She winks at me knowingly before she steps back out of the room.

I can’t help but chuckle, as close as my mother and I are, I’ve always been closer to Mrs. De Luca. She was married to one of Frederico’s enforcers who was killed in a drive-by not long after she started working for us. She never remarried and never had children of her own, but she took me under her wing as if she were a second mom.

Once I’ve scooted so that my back rests against the headboard, I take a sip of coffee. God, I love Mud House. The owner could roast a mean bean, but damn. No one can make a cup of coffee like Mrs. De Luca. I cautiously set the cup back on the bedside table and lift the cinnamon bun to my lips.

My mouth begins to water just from the scent. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips in preparation for the heaven that is about to touch my tongue. As soon as I take a bite, even more memories return with a vengeance.

Sunlight filters through the curtains slowly pulling me out of unconsciousness. My eyes flutter open through the sleepy haze. A sharp knock sounds on my door seconds before Milo strolls in. I sit up in a rush, the sheet pooling around my waist, goosebumps cover my bare chest as a gust of wind from the air vent washes over me.

“It’s time. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.” My best friend explains his reason for barging in like he owns the fucking place. He’s already dressed in the usual dark suit and button up.Did this motherfucker even sleep?

I nod and swing my legs over the side of my bed, I groan as a mug of piping hot coffee is shoved into my face. My brows furrow with confusion as I glare up at him. Milo lets out a throaty laugh as he drags it out of reach.

“I figured you’d want a quick jolt before you finally get your revenge.” He smirks and places the cup on the bedside table.

I roll my eyes at him and stand, stretching my arms over my head, and walk toward the bathroom with a calm that should make me feel uncomfortable. However, after the memories that surfaced last night, I'm looking forward to this. I don’t bother with a shower, just a quick piss to relieve my bladder before pulling on some dark sweats so that we won’t have to worry about blood stains after the fact. My gaze darts to the glint of light that hits the silver of my knife handle laying on the bedside table. I smirk and lift it into my hand, testing the weight in my palm before sliding it into my pocket.

“Let’s get this done.” I grin as I finally pick up the coffee and take a sip of the steaming liquid. An appreciative groan escapes. “Fuck, no one can make a cup like Mrs. D can.” My friend grunts and nods in agreement as I take another swig.

Milo and I walk the length of the house to the basement steps. We pass by a handful of soldiers, most of whom seem to be new recruits. No one speaks to me as we pass, but I can feel their eyes following us. When we reach the basement door, Milo pulls the heavy barrier to allow me past the threshold first to head down the stairs. As I descend the steps, I notice a familiar face peeking up at me.

A large figure emerges from the shadows with a wide grin on his lips as he holds out a hand to greet me. I ignore the gesture and pull him into a hug. He chuckles and shoves me away.

“I’ve missed you too kid, but we can get reacquainted once this is done.” Michael Messina, the man who was the closest thing to an uncle I had growing up, says to me. He was my Nonna’s favorite of Frederico’s men when I was a kid. For a long time, she had hoped that my mother would end up with him since he's only a few years older. His charcoal color hair is still dark and cropped short, it’s as if time has stood still, I notice as I take in his features.

My joy at reuniting with someone I have such fond memories of sours when Milo’s voice cuts through the room.

“Incoming.” He snaps.

I take my position, replacing Michael in the shadows. My eyes flicker to movement in the cell that they’ll be leading him into. Someone is hunched over on the floor in the far corner. I grin when I realize it’s Michael who has made himself impossibly small, he’s nearly unrecognizable from this position.

Moments later, the man of my nightmares is led into the space. He grumbles something in Italian as he approaches the cell. It’s not until he’s through the open door that I make myself known. Straightening my spine, I make myself taller and quietly approach the scene before me.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to steal from the Ludovico family?” Frederico growls, his voice coming out a bit raspy. He must have gone hard on the cigars for the past decade or so.

Once I'm standing in the doorway, I clear my throat. The same man I looked up to for years, did everything I could to become who he wanted me to be, spins to face me. Looking into his eyes, I remember everything. Every request, every command. Nothing was ever too much. He was a king among men, untouchable, unquestionable. But now, I see him through clear eyes for the piece of shit he is. An insect that must be crushed.

“Everyone, out.” I shout with a tone I know my grandfather recognizes. He is the one who taught me how to force those around me to respect my authority as the rightful heir to our family. His face drains of color the moment realization sinks in. “Time’s up, old man.”

I feel my lips twitch into a sadistic smile as I ball my hand into a fist and throw a right hook. The old man collapses as soon as my knuckles land on the intended mark. Luckily for him, Michael is standing behind him and catches him before he can obtain any real damage from hitting the concrete. Milo drags a metal chair over to the center of the room. The two of them make fast work of restraining him to the chair. Not that I'm worried he could get away or that he could hurt me. It’s more for us, so that we don’t have to hold him up from falling over until he comes to.

Michael steps out of the cell for a moment leaving Milo and I alone with a still very unconscious Frederico. He returns quickly with something in his hand. As Michael approaches my grandfather, he snaps whatever it is with his fingers. He waves it under Frederico’s nose causing him to immediately jolt awake and violently thrash in the chair with what sounds like a painful bit of coughing. I cock a questioning brow in Michael's direction.

“Smelling salts. We don’t use them too often; usually we don’t care if they wake up.” Milo answers me with a shrug of his shoulders.

Understanding dawns and I nod in response. Frederico’s eyes find me the moment he has control of his faculties again.

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