Page 133 of Descent

Raising one finger to my lips, I shush the waitress as I stalk past.

Through the opening, I slink into a maze of dividers leading out to the main dining area beyond. Ciro peers around a corner, catching my eye. Two fingers signal his direction. Another where he wants me. Aless must have gone around to flank from the other direction.

“MaledettoDiamantes!” Dom’s rasping voice fills the tent, muted and indistinct. “How many times do I have to fucking kill you?!”

Alessandro enters the hall across from me on the far side of the tent. He nods, pointing toward the back of the structure. I follow the wall along what appears to be private smoking rooms, periodically spotting the other two.

Reaching the final divider wall, Ciro glances at each of us, swiveling his fingers for us to go around while he steps through the main entrance. Aless vanishes out the side of the tent wall. My thin passage extends along the side of the lounge, leading to some sort of service access.

“They send the defective Russian defector to do the deed, heh?” Dom mewls. A hint of smoke flares my nostrils. Dom always liked his cigars.

A gap near the back shows me the interior, dimly lit by a lantern on a low table. Dom’s sitting at the edge of a plush ottoman. Another puff of his cigar illuminates his haggard features.

“It’s more of an attention deficit, I think. Undiagnosed.” Ciro cocks his hip, his hands in his pockets.

“Fucking re?—”

“Whoa! Dial that ignorant trash back to you just being a vile sack of shit.”

“Prattling dunce. You always act so fucking clever.”

“Nah. I leave the clever stuff to them.”

While he keeps Dom occupied, we creep in, taking our spots in the corner chairs. Dom looks around, gasping.

“Alwaysteatrale, no, Alessandro? Have to make an entrance.” He laughs nervously, coughing lightly. “Three against one. Fair enough. I have enough bullets for all of you,fratellini.”

“Go ahead.” Adriano’s voice startles even me. My older brother emerges from right behind Dom, rising from his hiding place.

“Ah, hiding right under my nose, just like always, Adriano. You…mmm…You, I will strangle with my bare hands. Sell out. Rat. Fucking turncoat cocksucker.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Alessandro rises.

“Come on then. Give me your best speech before you all die.”

“No speeches,” Adriano steps up behind Dom.

Ciro closes in, I appear next to him.

A low, fatalistic chuckle shakes the older man’s shoulders. “You knew…”

Adriano cocks his head, that humble acknowledgement that he’s almost always the smartest guy in the room. “Aless isn’t the only one with a flair for the dramatic. Or a not-so-secret addiction to smoking.”

Dom’s hand shakes. The cigar falls to the ground, smoldering in a sickly sweet scent, slightly putrid.

“Always a step ahead, eh, Adriano? You know, Ananke made me do all of this. Like she did with Ero, with the Lyra whore. Brainwashed me?—”

“Don’t shame yourself with more lies, Domenico,” I whisper, my knife dropping into my grip. Metal flickers in Ciro’s hand. Adriano fingers his switchblade.

Aless steps closer, raising a hand for us to stop.

Reaching down, he hooks his hands under Dom’s quivering elbows, the poison soaking him in cold sweat. He can barely move. Alessandro helps him to his feet.

“Want to face me like a man, eh?” Dom chokes on a cackle.

“No. I would face you like family.” A tear traces down Aless’s face as he embraces Dom.

He holds his mentor and best friend tight for a moment. Our godfather, our enemy.

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