Page 60 of Irish Reign

“Permission to bear thesegno. Like your father did before you.”

Holy shit.

That’s not a pistol Paolo set on the table. It’s a tattoo gun.

No wonder Liam has kept his own weapon focused on Russo.

I shake my head, dimly aware that I’m not thinking clearly. Maybe my brain is flooded with adrenaline. Maybe I have a lifetime of conditioning regarding Antonio Russo and the East Falls Crew. Maybe I remember the mark of the Crew on my father’s back.

I only saw it a few times—at family gatherings in the summer, swimming at Zio Matteo’s cabin in the Poconos. The tattoo was as long as my hand. It sat at the base of my father’s spine, just above the elastic band of his Speedo bathing suit. It was a line drawing, black against his swarthy skin: the head of a Medusa, snakes and all, framed by three bent legs.

The trinacria. Ancient symbol of Sicily. Emblem of Russo’s Mafia family.

“Why give me thesegno?” I ask him now. “I’m not part of your Crew.”

“You are not,” Russo agrees. “But I will not show those papers to anyone who has not sworn an oath of blood.”

I have a crazy image of Eliza and me, huddled beneath the quilt on her childhood bed. She stole her brother’s Swiss Army Knife, and we held the small blade over a match, sterilizing it before we pricked our thumbs. We said we’d be true to each other forever.

Eliza. The woman Russo murdered.

“Enough with guns,” Russo says. He holds his finger from the trigger of his own weapon as he lowers it to the floor. “Giovanna?” he asks, after he stands.

“Liam,” I say. From the set of his shoulders, my protector loathes giving in. But he does it because I ask him to. Because he’s loyal to me. He puts his gun on the floor by his foot.

“Excellent,” Russo says. “Now, Giovanna, you will accept thesegno, and then we will discuss these documents. Or I will leave and tell the world your freeport is a sham. That you offer services you fail to provide. That your auctions are frauds, with winning buyers chosen in advance.”

So that’s what has brought us to this. He’s getting revenge for Connor Boyle outbidding him for the Book of Skreen. Russo was embarrassed in public, and now he needs to rebuild his ego.

I have no doubt he can do everything he threatens. He’s built an empire through blackmail and extortion. He can devastate Diamond Freeport and Trap Prince before the end of this fiscal year.

“You ask too much,” I say.

“Your father took the oath. Your cousin, too, before she betrayed me. Once you are part of my family, I will share the documents with you. All you must do is take the oath.”

Take the oath. Let a stranger tattoo me with the symbol of Sicily, of the Mafia’s ancient home.

“Liam stays here,” I say.

Russo’s flat gaze gives away nothing. “If you wish.”

Liam says to me, “The boss won’t?—”

I cut him off. “The boss isn’t here.”

“I’ll call him,” Liam says.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

Russo says, “Giovanna? We have wasted enough time this morning.”

Liam stares at me, pleading. It isn’t fair, putting him between Braiden and me like this. But Russo is losing interest. He’s turning toward Paolo. He’s glancing at the gallery door.

I say to Liam, “I take full responsibility.”

“You know the boss?—”

“Then leave!” I cut him off. “Go on! Get back to Ardmore.”

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