GIO
They nodded in agreement, grinning as they scampered away.
“I wouldn’t have let him touch my gun,” Sebastian reassured me as I straightened up.
“I know,” I replied. Eventually, Amo would be taught how to handle firearms and blades, but only under our watchful eyes and definitely not at the tender age of three.
The shrill ring of my cell phone sliced through the quiet of the room. Casting a wary eye at the unfamiliar number on the screen, I hesitated for a moment before finally giving in and bringing the phone to my ear. “Yes?” I answered cautiously.
“Gio,” a male voice spoke, its familiarity sending a jolt through me. “It’s been a while. It’s Karsen.”
Stunned, I could hardly believe my ears. Karsen Pearce? The name echoed in my mind like a distant memory, a figure from the past that I had almost forgotten. My grip on the phone tightened as I motioned for Sebastian to join me outside. Pressing the speakerphone button, I held my breath.
“I am calling you in my Capo’s name,” Karsen continued, his words carrying an air of authority that demanded attention.
Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, mirroring my own astonishment. Karsen, speaking on behalf of a Capo? The pieces of this puzzle were falling into place, but the picture they were forming was nothing short of bewildering.
“Your Capo?” I echoed, my mind struggling to grasp the implications of Karsen’s revelation.
“Alonzo Bianchi. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” Karsen replied, a trace of amusement coloring his tone.
Oh, I had heard of him, all right. Alonzo Bianchi’s name had become a constant murmur, a force to be reckoned with ever since he wrested control over Las Vegas and a significant part of the West. He was a thorn in our side, a rival to be watched and, if possible, outwitted.
As Karsen’s words washed over me, I found myself unconsciously clenching my free hand into a fist. He was calling for negotiations, discussions about drug delivery routes. It was a matter of survival for our Famiglia, especially with the Outfit interfering with our operations. I cast a quick glance at Sebastian, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity.
I cautiously nodded, aware that Karsen couldn’t see me. “I did,” I replied, carefully measuring my words.
“We have a common enemy, Gio, and that’s the Outfit. I think we have a lot to talk about,” Karsen proposed, his statement carrying an undercurrent of intrigue and calculated risk.
I suppressed a sigh. There was undeniable logic in his words. The Outfit’s interference had forced our hand, pushed us to consider alliances we would have otherwise shunned. Despite my reservations about Alonzo, I couldn’t deny that our interests aligned, at least to some extent.
Agreeing to a meeting in three days, I brought the call to an end. The weight of the conversation hung heavy in the air, and as I disconnected, Sebastian’s voice pierced through my thoughts. “He’s not dead.”
The reality of Karsen’s existence hit me like a wave. The brother we thought lost, now seemingly aligned with the De Fiore, a force I had always preferred to keep at a distance. But my mind was muddled with conflicting emotions. Telling Millie, my wife, about Karsen’s return would be a heartrending decision. A reunion with her brother would be joyous, but the knowledge that he was now an enforcer for Alonzo Bianchi would undoubtedly cast a shadow over their meeting.
“How could we have missed this?” I muttered in frustration.
Sebastian’s voice cut through the tension, practical as ever. “We’ve had our hands full with the Outfit, the Bratva, and those MCs. The De Fiore wasn’t exactly at the forefront of our concerns.”
He was right, of course. Our plate was overflowing with challenges, leaving us little room to anticipate the movements of another formidable player.
“What do you think is his true motivation for the visit?” Sebastian’s question hung in the air, unanswered.
Alonzo Bianchi’s motives were as enigmatic as the man himself. Six years ago, his unexpected appearance in New York had set off a chain of events we were still grappling with. Now, as he sent Karsen as his emissary, a cloud of uncertainty shrouded his intentions.
Gazing out into the distance, I knew that there was only one certainty in this situation-we would find out. The stakes were high, the game had shifted, and the future of our Famiglia depended on deciphering the web of alliances, rivalries, and hidden agendas that now surrounded us.
~*~
Millie stood beside me, her nerves almost palpable as they caused her to fidget with unease. Growl, with a subtle shake of his head and a pained expression, communicated his thoughts. His gaze locked onto mine, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Millie clung to the hope of reuniting with the brother she remembered, a vision of him that was outdated, but the reality was far different. Growl, Sebastian, and I were well aware of the transformation Karsen had undergone. The years had forged him into something entirely ruthless, a metamorphosis that was necessary for his role as Alonzo’s Enforcer within the De Fiore.
Anticipation hung heavy in the air, and the tension was electric as the door swung open. Into the room walked a figure of commanding stature-tall, muscular, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. In my memory, he had struggled to conceal his emotions, but now, that vulnerability was shrouded by an icy veneer. As his cold gaze swept over us, a coil of tension wound tighter within my muscles. Growl’s hand instinctively hovered near his gun, the intensity of his hatred palpable as Karsen’s eyes settled on him.
Before anyone could react, Millie rushed forward, impulsive in her eagerness, and I found myself a fraction too slow to intercept her actions. Karsen’s eyes narrowed, his body tensing, as she enveloped him in a desperate embrace. Immediately, my own weapon was drawn, mirrored by the readiness of Growl and Sebastian. The atmosphere crackled with a deadly standoff.
Karsen’s hand snaked around Millie’s neck, a possessive grip that held both familiarity and threat. His lips curled into a smug smile, a silent declaration of power. Regret surged within me like an undertow. The realization hit me with a force akin to a physical blow-this man before us was a far cry from the brother Millie remembered and cherished.
The standoff remained, the balance of violence swaying on a precipice, until Karsen’s drawling voice sliced through the charged air. His words were laced with self-assuredness, a subtle arrogance that only deepened the enigma he had become. “No need for drawn weapons,” he asserted, his tone dripping with confidence. “I haven’t journeyed all this way to harm my sister.”
Slowly, his hand released its grip on Millie’s neck, and I seized the moment, stepping forward to pull her away from his dangerous proximity.
Millie’s voice trembled as she whispered, “My God, what happened to you?”
The answer came, a chilling revelation that dripped with bitterness. “You, Harper, and Sienna happened.”
Beside me, Millie’s emotions teetered on the edge of tears. Confusion and hurt etched deep lines on her face. “I don’t understand.”
Karsen’s recounting of his transformation was harrowing, a descent into darkness that had been shaped by cruelty and abandonment. “After Sienna fled as well, Father came to believe that there was a flaw in our bloodline-Mother’s legacy coursing through us was the flaw. He deemed me a mistake, a brewing weakness that needed to be eradicated. His solution was violence, an attempt to beat that perceived vulnerability out of me. And when his second wife birthed a son, I was cast aside, deemed expendable. He ordered one of his men to end my life.”
He continued, his voice tinged with both anguish and defiance, “But that man took pity on me. He spirited me away to a dingy corner of Kansas City, where the Bratva were meant to finish the job. Armed with only twenty dollars and a knife, I defied their intentions.”
My grip on Millie tightened, preventing her from advancing toward Karsen, a man whose story was now painted in shades of pain and survival. “We didn’t intend to harm you,” she uttered, her words cautious and empathetic. “We only sought to rescue Sienna from a wretched fate. We didn’t anticipate that you, too, needed saving. You were just a boy, on the path to becoming a soldier for the Outfit. We would have extended a hand if you had shown the need.”
“I saved myself,” Karsen retorted, the words a stark proclamation of self-reliance.
Millie’s voice quivered with a mix of sadness and hope. “You could still… leave Las Vegas.”