AIR Something was wrong. I had known it the moment Luke had come home the night before, and my suspicions were confirmed the next morning when I saw him wearing his gun and knife holsters. Two knives strapped in the front, two in the back, and two underneath. Two more knives on his calves. Luca had asked me to get ready too, but he had not said why. He had not been very forthcoming with any kind of information, but something must have happened yesterday with his Sub-Chiefs for him to call a meeting of the entire Family.
“Luca, I’m starting to worry,” I said softly as I brushed my hair and then lowered the brush onto my cabinet in the bedroom.
“Don’t worry,” he said firmly, taking my hand and pulling me against his chest. “It’s me being overprotective. You will spend the morning with Romero. He will keep an eye on you.” “I’m worried about you, not me,” I said frowning. His expression softened, but then he turned a smirk on me.
“I’m hard to kill.” I sighed. “Will someone try to kill you today?” He kissed me on the lips, his grip on me tightened almost painfully before retracting. With his hand around mine, he led me downstairs where Romero was waiting, looking as worried as I was. He quickly masked his emotions when he saw me, but it was too late. “Luca,” I whispered. “What’s going on? I thought this was just a Family meeting.” Romero and Luca exchanged a glance and Romero nodded, then headed for the front door. Luca grabbed my cheeks, his body shielding us from Romero’s gaze. I sought reassurance in his eyes , but he blocked me. Fear clawed at my chest and tears rose to my eyes. Maybe he was trying to protect me from the reality of mafia life, but I was the daughter of the Outfit Councilor. The Mafia was in my blood. I knew its rules, its people. A new Chief meant a power shift. Luca shook his head. “No,” he growled. “No tears.” I blinked and inhaled deeply.
“You will come back to me.” It was more of a question than a statement. A grim determination filled Luca’s face. “Always. Even if I have to slaughter a thousand men to do it.” Good Lord. I believed him. He gave me another kiss, then tried to step back, but I tightened my grip around his waist. “Air,” he said softly, but I didn’t let go. Luca signaled Romero, and a moment later, Romero grabbed my arms and gently pulled me away from Luca. After one last look at me, Luca exited the apartment. The elevator doors closed on his strong back. “Come on, Aria,” Romero said in a gentle voice, releasing me . “We should go, too.” “Is he in trouble? Is it because he’s a young Chief?” Romero shook his head. “Luca doesn’t want you to know the details. Don’t ask me for answers I can’t give you.” LUCA The Yonkers Power Plant with its red-brown brick facade loomed near the Hudson River, a ruined relic of the past, like my uncles. “The gateway to hell,” Matthew muttered to himself as we parked near the entrance. The neglected surroundings of the power plant were crowded with dozens of cars.
Gateway to Hell… The press had given the building that name in recent years because of gang wars, but the last real bloodbath had been orchestrated by the Family, and perhaps another would follow today. Romero would bring Aria around town today. I didn’t want her in our penthouse or mansion if things escalated. If Matthew and I had died, Romero would have taken her to Chicago. The Outfit would have protected her. The two smokestacks rose to the sky like gun barrels. My guns strapped to my chest, it was hoped, would not go into action that day. Matthew and I walked through creaking gates, past rusty pipes, into the main hall of the cathedral-high building. Hundreds of men turned toward me as I walked past them. The first row was made up of soldiers from New York and Boston, soldiers I had worked with often over the years, but in the rows behind them I saw many less familiar faces: soldiers from Washington and Atlanta, from Cleveland and Philadelphia and the other East Coast cities under my rule. Some of them had never seen me in person, had only heard the stories and seen the press photos. A murmur went through them as they looked at me. I had not chosen a three-piece suit for the occasion as my father and the Capos before him would have done. I was dressed in a tight dark gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing the muscles I had worked so hard for. I did not choose one of the high platforms, which afforded a breathtaking view of the hall, for my speech. The distance would have reduced the effect my size had on people. I wanted my people to see me up close, especially those who had never seen me before. I jumped onto a low concrete platform with the remains of rusted bolts before turning toward the assembled Family. Matthew remained in the background . Having him here with me would have made people think I needed his reinforcement, but today I needed to show my men that I could handle anything on my own. I raised my hand and immediately my men fell silent. Gotthard, in the front line, gave me a menacing look with barely concealed contempt. “Thank you for following my call,” I thundered. “I know that Capos before me have never called a meeting of this magnitude, but times change, and although we are bound by our traditions and rules, which I have always honored, some things must be changed.
We have to adapt so that the Family remains strong, so we can face future threats and come out stronger.” Most of the younger soldiers nodded and so did many of the older ones, but some faces remained skeptical, including my uncles Gotthard and Ermano. “As a sign of respect for all of you, I have called this meeting so that you can voice your concerns before swearing allegiance to me.” Surprised whispers. I gestured to Gottardo, who straightened up immediately. “To show you that I am serious, I will now give the floor to one of my critics, my uncle Gottardo Vitiello, deputy head of the Atlanta Family. Some of you may have heard of him.” It was a dig that I could not resist. Gottardo had always been more about words than actions. I doubted that many of them had ever seen him outside his office. Gotthard stepped forward and climbed onto the platform with some difficulty. It had been some time since his last fight, as the pocket showing against his suit attested. He gave me a barely perceptible nod of assent, and once again I wondered if I should take Matthew’s advice and slit his throat, but he was a relative and I, at least, had to pretend to care. Gotthard cleared his throat and spread his arms wide. ” I mean no disrespect. Those who know me know that respect is everything to me,” he began, and I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. He was all about talking behind people’s backs. This had nothing to do with respect. “But some things need to be said for the good of the Family. We need a strong hand, an experienced hand to guide us. Luke is strong but he is too young, too inexperienced.” A few astonished whispers arose. My expression betrayed nothing . If my men thought that Gottardo’s words had had an impact on me, they might consider them true. “We have many capable Sub-Chiefs with decades of experience. One of them could become Chief until Luca is older.” Fucking bullshit. Once I resigned, Gotthard, and my other uncles and their children, would make sure it stayed that way , probably with a knife in my back. I raised my hand again, my expression steely. “What name instills respect in the Outfit? What revenge are the Bratva afraid of when they think of attacking us? I have been a member of the Family for twelve years. I have killed nearly two hundred enemies. It is my name they whisper in fear. The Deputy. They fear me because my actions speak louder than my age, because I am capable of doing what needs to be done, no matter how bloody, no matter how dangerous, no matter how ruthless. You are older, Uncle Gottardo, it is true, but how many fights have you taken part in, how many men have you tortured, how many enemies have you killed? You are old. And that is what is saving you today. I’m not going to kill you for speaking against your chief because I respect my elders. I respect them as long as they respect me, so the next time you think about rebelling, neither your age nor your status as my uncle will stop me from plunging the knife into your heart.” I focused on the many hundreds of men below me.
“Those who have fought alongside me know why I am the Leader the Family needs at this time. I know how to fight, unlike so many other former Chiefs who spent their time hiding behind desks and behind their bodyguards. But I know how to act diplomatically, as my union with Rocco Scuderi’s daughter should have shown.” “We don’t want the Outfit’s whore in the Family!” shouted a deep male voice. My eyes turned in the direction from which the shout had come. Matteo turned his twisted fucking smile on me. Gateway to Hell. There was going to be blood tonight. “Who said that?” I asked. A few people moved to my right. I focused on them. There was a tall asshole I didn’t know, probably one of Gottardo’s men, who met my gaze. “Who?” I roared. “Me,” he admitted, in a firm voice. I leapt off the platform and approached him among the crowd that was moving away. Matteo was behind me. My men looked at me with respect and fascination. Most of them were much shorter than me, and when I stopped right in front of the asshole who had spoken ill of Aria, even he had to raise his head slightly, despite being six feet tall. I knew what I looked like to most people: like the Devil risen from Hell. “I prefer to know the names of the men I kill, so what is your name?””John,” he said, trying to sound impassive but failing. Sweat covered his upper lip and his hand rested on the gun on his belt.
“Giovanni,” I said in my deadliest voice, moving even closer, my eyes indicating what lay ahead. He stepped back a step, just one, but everyone saw. My smile widened. “What did you call my wife?” His eyes looked around. “It was payment for the truce. She’s a whore,” he said then quickly added. “I’m not the ‘only one who thinks so.” “Really?” I asked, letting my furious gaze slide over the surrounding men, most of whom were Gottardo’s soldiers. None of them confirmed what John had said, but I could imagine what Gotthard had told them. “Maybe they will help you, Giovanni. I hope some of them will, so I can tear them apart, too.” Giovanni gasped, his fingers wrapping around the grip of his gun. My hand lunged forward, closing around his throat, and I pushed him to the floor, drove my knee into his chest to keep him down. He was choking as my fingers cut off his oxygen supply. I sustained his gaze, savoring the panic in his eyes as he struggled against death. His struggle became jerky as he arched and twisted, but I did not loosen my grip. I held out my hand to Matthew. “Knife.” I had mine, but it would have taken considerable effort to free it from the calf or rear holster with the asshole struggling beneath me. Matthew handed me his favorite skinning knife, with a short, sharp carbon blade built to penetrate flesh like butter. John’s eyes widened in terror and lack of oxygen. Just before he lost consciousness, I cleared his throat and his mouth opened wide to swallow air. I slipped my hand between his upper and lower jaws to hold it open, then lowered the knife to his tongue. He bit down, squealing hoarsely, but the blade cut into his flesh. Pain pierced my fingers from his locked jaw, but I would have had worse. I dropped the knife and reached for the half-cut tongue, then yanked it away with a violent yank. His eyes rolled back as blood filled his mouth. He fell on his side, writhing. He would soon die from blood loss or suffocate in his own blood. With the slimy tongue still in my hand, I spun around to show my men that I had seen them all, then dropped the useless piece of flesh to the ground before returning to the front , my hand and forearm covered in blood. I jumped onto the platform and faced the crowd, not bothering to clean myself . I would have let them see the blood, but most of their eyes were fixed on my face and a sick respect distorted their features. “My wife is an honorable woman, my woman, and I will kill anyone who dares to disrespect her.” I hoped this would settle the matter once and for all. Matteo smiled at me as he held the bloody knife I had dropped. I nodded to him and he spoke. “Now that we have dealt with John’s wayward tongue, it is time for you to swear loyalty to your Chief. Those of you who still think Luke is not fit to be Chief can come forward and not say the oath. It is up to you.” He showed them his teeth and wiped the blade on his trouser leg.
No one stepped forward, and when Matthew placed his palm over his heart and began the words of our oath, “Born in blood, sworn in blood,” the crowd joined in unison. I breathed deeply, watching my men as they looked at me.
For now I had silenced my critics, frightened them into silence, but they would not stay that way forever. Yet for now I was Chief, a stronger Chief than my father because I had given my soldiers the feeling that they had chosen me.
When I came down later, I took the towel that Matthew handed me to wipe my hand before accepting my soldiers’ congratulations and shaking hands.
My men sought my closeness, especially those who had never met me before. They had only ever talked about me and now they could talk to me. I gave them what they were looking for. I spoke, I listened, I clapped my hands on my shoulders.
Mansueto, Sub-Chief in Philadelphia, supporting his weight with a cane, came up to me later, with his son Cassius looming over him. I shook hands with Mansueto and then with Cassius.
“Your wife brings splendor and light to New York. In my nearly seventy years I have never seen such beauty as hers. Truce or not, you are lucky to have her in your bed.”
I stiffened.
“Father,” Cassius said in a warning tone, giving me an apologetic look.
Mansueto smiled and nodded at me. “Protective as you should be. I am an old man. Don’t mind me.”
I knew that Aria was beautiful. Had she been born in the past she would have been queen, given to a king for her magnificence, and even now she was destined for the stage, destined to be admired by millions. She would have been the erotic dream of millions of teenage boys, would have haunted the fantasies of millions of married men who couldn’t get aroused by images of their wives, had she not been my wife.
But I was a possessive asshole, and that’s why she would always be mine alone. Every inch of her.
“I know today is not a good time, but I need to discuss my succession with you,” Mansueto said.
Cassio tightened his mouth. “You will not die today, Father.”
“But maybe tomorrow,” Mansueto said.
I pointed my gaze at Cassio. “You will take your father’s place” .
Cassio inclined his head. “If you give your assent. I’m young.”
I smiled. “Not as young as me. The Family needs young blood.” I turned to Mansueto. ” No offense.” “No offense. There are certain forces in the Family that are holding us back. But I have faith that you will burn the problem from the roots.”
Mansueto’s gaze moved to the center of the room where John had bled to death. No one had come to his aid. “I will.”