Page 31 of The Butcher
“Francesco’s boy,” he added. “Alessio. The one he never put his name on.”
“He’s been running his mouth,” the man continued. “Telling people he’s Rossi blood. That it’s only a matter of time before he steps in and takes his place. Using the family name to build something under the radar.”
“So he thinks blood alone gives him power,” my father spat.
“He’s acting like it does,” the first man said. “Pulling smaller crews, setting up his own routes, and making his own deals. The grunt said he’s keeping it tight.”
“And Francesco?” someone asked. “He knows what his bastard’s doing?”
“He knows he exists,” the man replied. “That’s it. If he knew about what he was doing, it wouldn’t be allowed.”
“So this isn’t Rossi making a move,” I finally said slowly. “It’s a kid trying to build his own name off it.”
“And he’s doing it by hitting our lines,” someone added.
“You’re going to handle that,” my father said. It wasn’t a question.
All eyes came back to me. “Yes,” I said.
“How?” My uncle pressed. “Because now we’ve got someone tied to Rossi blood making plays that could drag the whole family into it.”
“I’ll deal with it,” I said. “Before it gets that far.”
“And Francesco?” someone else asked. “Do we tell him what’s going on?”
“No. We’ll keep this close,” I replied. “Until we’re given a reason not to.”
“That’s a gamble,” one of the men said.
The room stayed quiet for a second then the tension shifted again, more tense now.
“You brought her into your house,” one of the older men said, his attention locking on me. “And now her blood is tied to this.”
I didn’t answer right away.
“If her father’s bastard is making moves like this,” he continued, “then anything connected to that family becomes leverage whether you like it or not.”
Another man leaned forward slightly. “Which means she’s still a risk.”
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze moving across the table before settling on him. The urge to reach across and slit his throat for even mentioning my wife burned hot in my veins. “She’s not part of this,” I said.
“You don’t know that,” he replied.
“I do,” I said, my voice steady.
“You’re telling us she’s clean while her own blood is out there building something behind everyone’s back?” another man asked.
I curled my hands into fists but stayed quiet. Several men shifted, sensing the volatile energy vibrating from me.
“We’re taking a risk keeping her linked to us,” one of the older men said.
I leaned forward and couldn’t stop the deep, violent sound that left me. “Everyone better choose their words really fucking wisely when it concerns my wife.”
“You know what the expectation is,” he replied. “You eliminate anything that can be used against us.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t shift my tone. “You don’t touch what’s mine,” I said.
The silence that followed was an understanding. They knew exactly what that meant.
