Page 45 of War Within
“Uh, don't.” Emir lifted his hand. “Let me talk to your father first.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Then I'll go binge watch some shows.” She trudged out of the room, gripping her phone tightly in her hand.
Turning to Emir, I scowled instantly lifting my hand to my chin.
His eyes widened. “Sir, you look like you're going to kill me.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
Placing his hand on his chest, he took a deep breath. “Did you look at the feed I told you about?”
“No, I haven't gotten the chance yet.”
“I emailed it to you.” He started to pace the kitchen. “I think you are going to want to see it.”
Scrolling through the security footage, I felt confused. What was I looking for? I saw nothing.
“Zoom in on zone seven, feed number three.” He came to a stop before me, hands on his hips.
My breath hitched. “Marco. It’s him. It’s my fucking son! It all adds up now. Fuck.” Squeezing my phone, I shoved it back into my pocket. I wanted to scream. “Please tell me this is a fucking joke, and my son is not involved in this.”
He sighed, appearing genuinely scared of my reaction. “He was quite jealous of you and her. You knew this. I hate to ask this, but what would you like me to do?”
Grinding my teeth, I growled, “Call the family. Notify them of Marco. I will see if I can trace his phone.”
“On it, boss.” He nodded. “I’ll be in my office.” Before he exited, he spun around. “Oh, and some of your men arrived from America.”
I bowed my head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. “When you're done, come to the Gold Lion. We'll have a meeting.”
The sound of a vibrating phone came from Emil’s pocket. He checked the notification. “Sir, the brothers are on their way there now.”
“I’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Sir, you need secur—”
I shot him a glare.
“O-okay, you win.” He backed up. “I guess you’ll technically have it once you get there.”
Nodding was all I could muster up the strength to do. Emir took my hint and left the house. I roamed the room, unsure how to handle it. No one ever prepares people for this.
I always wondered how my mother could stand to love killers for sons. She always forgave us. She never turned her back on us, yet she knew exactly what we did. My father was a killer too. He once warned me, there might come a day when I was faced with the difficult decision to kill my own flesh and blood.
Killing Marco was not something I wanted to do, but I would if I had to. Hurting women, especially one I liked, was not something I was willing to let happen. There was an understanding among the families. If the Don claimed someone, they were protected at all costs. Marco knew the laws of the family. Up until now, I assumed he had followed them. He betrayed me. He broke the law. Now he would have to pay for his transgressions.
As I drove to the Gold Lion, I felt nauseated. The entire ride over was a blur. Anger and fury were building within me, and I could not stop the inevitable.
“AHHHHHHHHHH!” I bellowed in the car where no one could hear me.
My decision was final. Marco would have to die.
As I watched the bar’s sign swinging back and forth in the nighttime breeze, I braced myself. Fighting back the emotions trying to control me, I held my head high, opening the weathered, wooden door. I ran my fingers through my hair, raking out the few snowflakes.
“Mr. Rovati.” My favorite waitress approach, beaming. “It's been a long time.”
“Ciao, Milena.” I placed a kiss on her cheek. “It has.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” She stroked my cheek with her well-manicured nails. “And what can I do for you this time, my favorite man?”
