Page 57 of Rotten Men

The only one of us who looks eerily calm is Vincent, who still has his hand clasped with one of Red’s, showing her nothing but love and his undivided attention.

“You thoughtThe Thorncould take me down? Would take Gio and Dom down with me, didn’t you?” he questions, calm as rain.

“Yes. After he admitted in killing Pietro and learned your uncle wanted to give my hand to you next, he made certain I knew that would never happen. He promised to kill anyone who stood in his way. I ran because I thought I was protecting the people I loved most. However, I now see that the only real way I can protect anyone, and gain my life back, is to eliminate the thorn that has been in my side since I fled Chicago. But I’m not sure I can do that when he’s using Jude as his leverage. I can’t lose Jude, Vincent. He’s my whole life,” she sobs softly. Vincent, no longer content in having Red sit beside him, cradles her in his arms and over his lap.

“Look at me,tesoro,” he nudges her chin up to face him. “I’m sorry you felt you needed to sacrifice yourself for our rotten lives. If you had told us, then we would have found a way to beat Ciro at his own game. But that’s in the past, and our future is all that matters. I vow to you, we will get Jude back, and we will protect you until we take our last wretched breaths. Do you believe me,vita mia?”

Selene, mesmerized by Vincent’s certainty, nods and he presses his lips on our girl’s to seal his pledge.

There is a small bout of silence, as each one of us digests the secrets of the past while acknowledging the turbulent path that lies ahead. Only one solution is evident, and it will be the hardest to accomplish.

“Ciro must die,” I declare, breaking the pensive silence around us.

“To do that we are going to need a plan. A very good one, which, under the circumstances, I’m not sure we have enough time to come up with,” Gio states adamantly. “We don’t even know where the asshole is.”

“Yes, we do,” Selene interjects.

“Where?” Gio asks.

“He told me to go home. Repeatedly. He’ll be at my father’s house.”

“So that is where we’ll go,” Vincent states nonchalantly. “You and I will get our boy back. Tonight.”

Selene gives him another nod, sighing in relief, hoping to see Jude soon.

“You’ll be walking into a trap. You know that right?” I tell him, hoping he understands this little visit toThe Butcher’shouse means his chances of getting out of there alive are slim to none.

A cruel grimace rises on Vincent’s lips, and his frozen stare sends a shiver down my spine.

“Even death must be earned, Dominic, and Ciro LaSpina hasn’t merited mine. The same, however, cannot be said about him.”

Twenty-One

Vincent

Once we step onto the stone path, it’s as if both of us are being transported into the past. For Selene it’s an avalanche of memories, dreading to come home after school or church and enduring her father’s wrath, while my trepidation is facing the house of horrors I was too young and powerless to help her escape from.

“You can do this, Selene. I’ll be with you every step of the way,” I affirm, giving a small squeeze to our clasped hands in reassurance.

She gives me a clipped nod, her facial features bold and steadfast. Selene might have arrived a fragile, frightened mother on my doorstep earlier today, but now the fierce, valiant survivor has taken over as she leads us both to the grim, foreboding doors of the place that, once upon a time, tried to break her spirit. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me, the familiar and new faces geared up along its boundaries, with heavy artillery at their side.

“My father’s been busy,” she quips under her breath.

“I don’t think these men oweThe Butcherany loyalty. These areIl Bastardo’smen. Even the ones I don’t recognize bear his seal of approval.” I seethe.

Selene turns to me with remorse embedded in her green gems but then bites her lower lip, halting the apology she thinks I’m owed, for not telling me about the impending threat amongst mycapos. The past can’t be changed, and no amount of ‘I’m sorries’ will help us in our current predicament. She knows it as well as I do.

One of the armed men opens the front door for us, and I’m met with another unexpected betrayal when I recognize one of the men standing at the center of the luxurious foyer.

“Alonzo Fratelli, how nice to see where your true loyalties lie. I won’t forget it.” I glower at him in greeting.

“This was your own doing, Vincent. The Outfit needs to evolve, but not by taking down theCosa Nostraas you suggested. LaSpina is exactly what the syndicate needs,” he states stoically, but beneath his armored conviction, I see a sliver of doubt.

“Tell me, Alonzo, where is our host for the evening?” I ask, not giving his statement any credence and instead, I act as if we’ve been invited to a soiree rather than the bloodbath that is most likely to occur tonight.

“Bianchi’s office. I’ll show you to it,” he replies, turning to lead the way.

“No need for such pleasantries. I remember where it is,” I add dismissively.

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