Page 132 of Fortress of the Cursed

Even though Angelo can look after himself, I feel a sense of loyalty to him, and all his brothers, as I always have. They’ve always looked out for me.

You can say what you want about the Medicis and the crime world they run, but at the end of the day, they are family who love and care about each other, and they will stop at nothing to keep the ones they love protected.

I don’t think Angelo or Fynn, or any of the brothers, will be running for citizens of the year, but this city is far cleaner now than it ever was when Mario was in charge. That is just a fact.

Mario did a good job of running the city, but Angelo is better. Angelo isn’t as ruthless as Mario was. Don’t get me wrong, Angelo can take out the trash when it’s needed, but Mario had no restraint.

Everybody was scared of him, but not many respected him, not like they do Angelo, and that is the difference between the two.

Mario wasn’t bothered by who got killed in the process. Innocents who got in the way, well, they were just another liability. Something to be easily disposed of.

I cannot imagine Angelo doing such a thing.

He may be the most-feared man in the city, but I’ve seen a different side to him, and nobody can tell me any different.

Not like the monster in front of me, whose hand is digging into my skin. His eyes wild, his smile cruel.

All the while, I have no idea what he intends to do with me.

“It still begs the question of why you’re doing this,” I say, knowing I’m probably pushing my luck in getting any answers.

“My father was never going to make me Don,” he says simply. “It was always Angelo. He was the golden child. He was the one Mario talked about incessantly, like he was his own son. Even after we lost Domenico, things were already shifting, and my father didn’t think I had the chops to see it through.”

Oh my God.He’s talking about our father, who was shot point blank at a fruit market when I was very young. He died in Angelo’s arms.

“He was going to make Angelo Don?”

“Personally, I think the old man was losing his marbles. He didn’t get very far in the end.” I know how much Mario's own death affected all of the family, especially Angelo. Mario had become like a father to him, and he was also very close to Fynn especially.

He was the closest thing the boys had to a father figure after Domenico was killed.

Angelo worshiped him. Mario told him everything, and after Roberto died, Mario’s own health rapidly declined.

I’m sure he would turn in his grave if he knew what was really going on all these years.

I shudder to think of all the destruction Roberto has caused, and I still don’t really understand why. All because his father favored Angelo? Is that really a reason to do all of this? Just to hurt him?

The madness never ends with what he’s done; Allegra, for one, and her involvement with Katiya and Mia being kidnapped, as well as using Allegra to try to kill Angelo and bribe Rayne in the process. Involving the Russians. The raid on fortress with the Triads. The car bomb that almost blew up the brothers and Rocco. Enzo and Dante have both been shot, Enzo nearly dying. There’re countless other horrendous things. This man is a maniac.

“It hardly seems like a good enough reason; to do all of this,” I say, not even caring about the distaste in my tone. I want him to know that I think he’s a bastard, not that he cares.

“That is where you are wrong, my dear. This is exactly why I was always underestimated, even by my own father, and especially my peers. I could never live up to him, his legacy. Many people thought I didn’t have the stomach for it, but little did they know that I lived and breathed for this family. When they were done with me, they threw me away like I didn’t even matter. Like I was disposable, like I was just a mere peasant and someone they could squash. So I chose to get out. I chose to bide my time until Angelo was at the peak of his reign. Then I vowed I would come back and make his life a living hell, just like he made mine by being everything my father needed and wanted before he turned his back on me.”

I shake my head. It might get me killed, but it still needs to be said. “That’s not the man who you speak of,” I say. “Angelo is the greatest Don that ever lived; everybody in this city respects him. Everybody does what he says, not out of fear but out of admiration, because he built Boston back up and molded it into the glittering and successful city that it is today.”

“They’ve certainly got you all trained up,” he muses.

He’s dragging me across the parking lot, and I think about making a run for it, but where would I go? There’s nothing but a twenty-foot drop off the side of the underground lot, and I don’t know this place well enough to get my bearings.

I try not to think about the fact that he could actually kill me. That kind of negativity is not what I need right now.

“What are you going to do?” I don’t want to know the answer, but now seems like a good time as any to ask.

“Well, I managed to get a bomb in here. I can’t say much for Medici’s security, maybe they need to do some upgrades.”

I frown. “You’re going to blow up the casino?”

He laughs. “Where would be the fun in that? I want to see the look on Angelo’s face. I want him to look me in the eyes when I take down every single thing he’s built, and every single person he cares about.”

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