Matteo begins listing dryly, “We won’t go after your family or any of your family’s businesses on the West Coast. You’re to be paid in full for the building and will receive a commission from the casino every year once we’ve gotten it up and running. And lastly, we won’t kill you for the obstinance you’ve shown over the years by refusing to sell the first time we asked.”
Greedy bastard. I might not know much about business, but even I know those terms are ridiculous. Robert’s too stupid to wonder why we’re even agreeing to it at all.
“My old man loved this place,” he says in defense. His pupils are large and blown out. And he’s still shaking. It’s withdrawal symptoms. When we picked him up, he was heading back from a party where he’d gotten high on coke and fuck knows what else.
The man is a disgrace to the Castiano name, and he famously hated his father. Which is why he ensured the place turned into a dump instead of making any moves to take care of it. If he wanted to send a fuck you to his father from the grave, far be it from any of us to get in the way. But by refusing us, he got himself high up on our shit list. We’ve been biding our time until now, though. He’s nothing but small fish to fry. The Castianos have mostly moved to California since the death of their patriarch. Robert was the one stupid enough to come back to our turf.
“I was only trying to protect it and keep it in the family,” he continues.
“You were toying with us,” Salvatore says, voice low and tinged with violence.
My hand twitches as I fight to reach for the gun concealed in my jacket. There’s way too much talking going on.
“No,” he argues. “I- I didn’t mean to.”
My elder brother narrows his eyes, “Sign the papers, Castiano.”
He gulps, taking us all in with fear in his expression. Finally, he reaches for the pen and appends his signature on every dotted line. Once he’s done, the guard beside him grabs the papers and brings them over to Matteo. While my brother appraises the documents, Robert gets to his feet on shaky legs.
There’s no missing the relief in his expression.
“Is it over? Can I go?” he asks.
“Just one more thing,” I reply before finally reaching into my jacket.
The gunshot that rings out is deafening in the empty space. Robert falls to the ground with a cry and satisfaction pulses through every inch of me. In the wake of the shot, I look towards my brothers. Salvatore fixes me with an unimpressed stare.
“What?” I question, rolling my eyes. “If you didn’t want that to happen, you wouldn’t have asked me to be here in the first place.”
“We said we wouldn’t kill him,” Matteo points out, rubbing his jaw.
“He’s not dead yet,” I state, gesturing the barrel of my gun at the man clutching his arm on the floor.
I have impeccable aim and I made sure not to hit anything too important.
“What are you going to do to him?” Elio questions.
I shrug, “Considering Matteo’s annoying promise, I’m going to have to make sure he dies of natural causes.”
“And what are natural causes to you,fratello?” Matteo asks.
“Drowning, flaying, electrocution,” I list. “I figure as long as I’m not the one directly ending his life, we get to keep our word.”
Amusement slashes across my brother’s face.
“No! Please,” Robert cries. “My family.”
Salvatore steps forward and crouches so he’s looking the bastard directly in the eyes.
“If you thought you could actually get away with it, Castiano, you’re more stupid than you look,” the Don informs him. “Butdon’t worry, we won’t touch your family. After your useless excuse of a life ends, one of your brothers will be in charge. The one that sold you out in the first place. He was all too happy to tell us where you were in exchange for some meagre support.”
“Shawn!” he spits, knowing exactly which brother would have betrayed him.
It’s cold and disgusting, watching them turn against each other. I couldn’t imagine that happening within my family. My brothers would die for me and vice versa. We might not have a lot of honor, but we protect each other fiercely.
Salvatore rises to his feet and turns his back on Robert, sealing his fate. He ignores his wails and cries for mercy as he heads for the door.
“Don’t drag it out too much, Rafaelle,” he orders.