Page 3 of Savage Union
"We weren't expecting company. Would you like to join us? Boy, bring another plate set," my father orders, desperation bleeding through his fake hospitality.
"I'm not here for dinner, Tommaso," Vito replies, his voice as cold as a morgue. "You didn't waste time, Vince, Luigi, and Roberto."
"Don, we are just breaking bread. You know how it is," Vince says quickly.
"Exactly," Luigi adds, but the tension keeps building.
"Hmm, I'm sure that is the case," Vito says, mockery dripping from every word. "Tomasso, do you bring friends to family dinner now?"
"We are all family here. Aren't we guys?" my father responds, his smile strained.
"I'm sure you all are. Let me ask you, who do you love the most, Tomasso? Is it your wife? Your daughters? Your mistress?"
"I love my family equally. Why don't you sit and join us for dinner," my father suggests, scrambling for control he no longer has.
Vito snaps his fingers, and suddenly we're surrounded by men built like concrete walls.
Vito leans forward, and I catch his scent—expensive cologne with notes of sandalwood and something darker underneath. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he speaks, the only indication of the rage I sense simmering beneath his controlled exterior. The restaurant lights cast shadows across the planes of hisface, highlighting the dangerous elegance of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips that contrast with the cruelty in his eyes.
"Choose, or they all die," Vito states flatly.
I find myself studying the way his throat moves when he speaks, the subtle shift of his shoulders under his jacket. Dangerous. He's dangerous, I remind myself, tearing my eyes away only to find them drawn back to him seconds later.
My father says nothing. The coward.
"Fine, I'll choose for you." Vito nods, and one of his men moves toward Sofia.
"Take me," I say, standing before I can think better of it.
Vito's eyes lock with mine. "Brave or stupid. I can't quite decide." His lips curve slightly. "Sit," he orders.
"Vito, we are family here. There is no need for anyone to get hurt," my father pleads.
"That is Don Vito to you. You're a rat, Tomasso. Did you think I wouldn't learn what you've been up to?" Vito's voice turns to gravel.
"What are you talking about, son?" My father's pathetic attempt at familiarity makes me cringe.
Vito's laugh is devoid of humor. "I'm not your son."
"I've known you—" my father begins.
"My father trusted you, but I know better."
He pulls the gun from its holster, holding it almost lazily, like it's just an extension of him now.
My mother's eyes go wide. "Please put that gun away, Don Vittore," she begs, but Vito isn't looking at her. His eyes are trained on my father.
"You thought you could kill me and take over. You were wrong, Tommaso," Vito says, his voice emotionless.
The gunshot is deafening. My ears ring as everything blurs around me. More shots follow. My heart stops, thinking we'reall dead, until I hear my mother's scream. Then Sofia's. I can't move, frozen in my chair.
"Take them," Vito orders, his voice so cold it could've frozen the air around us.
I look around. Everyone at the table is dead except my mother, Sofia, and me. I stand up so fast I nearly topple over. My phone vibrates again in my pocket, and in that moment, I realize with sickening clarity that I've made a terrible mistake. Liam is too late. And now I'm caught in a web far more dangerous than I could have imagined, tied to two deadly men with no way out.
"What do you want with us?" I demand, my voice betraying my fear despite my attempt to sound brave.
Vito steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Caterina—" he starts, then pauses. "Time to go home," he continues.
