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I heard voices then footsteps. A soldier I’d yet to meet was trailing behind Alejandro.

“I need your help,” he told me.

“Of course. Why?”

“It’s Don Santorelli. It appears he had a heart attack.”

* * *

Alejandro

Something inside me shifted.

It was as if a light had gone out, replaced with darkness.

I was no longer the man I’d once been. Jeffers was dead. Gone. Soon to be banished from the face of this earth.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but an understanding that had hit me on the ride to the estate.

There was no doubt I’d been labeled a criminal by my own organization. Now I’d also been deemed the new Don, a job I’d never wanted.

Until now.

The shock of losing Don Santorelli hit harder than I’d expected. Not only with me, but also with many of his soldiers. While Gio had finally left for the night after checking on the family somewhere around two-thirty, here it was barely after seven and Gio was standing in front of the window looking like a lost puppy dog.

The silent hum of brief conversations could be heard in several rooms. While there was no indication of foul play, that didn’t mean everyone wasn’t on edge.

When any powerful leader died, there was an obligation to mourn. Myself included. I hadn’t considered Luis Santorelli a friend, but he’d certainly become a mentor.

Even acting as a father figure. Maybe it was good he hadn’t lived to see the shit as it had gone down.

Carmella was still with him, now signing the death certificate. He’d remained alive for a few minutes after we’d arrived, but had been comatose. She’d tried to beg me to take him to the emergency room, but it had been too late. Plus, that’s not what he had wanted. Everyone knew it.

Old fool.

I knew she was upset, partially because she hadn’t been able to save a patient. The woman would take this to heart.

Goddamn, I adored her.

My thoughts drifted to the conversation we’d had just before hearing the news. She would push me into telling her everything even though I wasn’t certain she was prepared to learn the truth.

“Boss, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it, Dan?”

“An attorney by the name of Jonathan Whitfield.”

Don Santorelli’s attorney. How in the hell had he heard the news so quickly?

“Give me five minutes before sending him in,” I told him.

“Yes, sir.” Both Gio and I turned and watched him leave, closing the door behind him.

Gio glanced at me, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell?”

I gritted my teeth. “I was summoned by the Don days ago. He had a plan of action in place in case something like this happened.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You already know what it entails.”

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