Page 137 of Savage King

Marcello lets out a slow breath. “And Edoardo’s involved?”

Enrico speaks this time. “There’s chatter. Quiet meetings. A few Venezuelan names showing up on guest lists they shouldn’t be on. If he’s not taking a cut, he’s protecting someone who is.”

I swirl the amber in my glass, watching it catch the light as I voice my suspicions. “What’s the endgame? Replace the old families with a new power structure?”

“No,” Marcello says, his voice hard and certain. “Replace the families withonefamily.”

We go quiet as we mull his words over. Edoardo has repeatedly announced that he wants to ring in a new era. It just hadn’toccurred to us that he might want to get rid of us, just like we want to get rid of him. The words hang in the room like smoke from a bad fire.

“Edoardo’s not smart enough to plan that,” I finally say.

“He doesn’t have to be,” Marcello answers. “He’s just the face.”

“And the hand on his back?” I want to know.

Marcello looks at me. Then at Stephano. Then Enrico.

He doesn’t say her name. He doesn’t have to. Donna Margarita. Our Don's mother-in-law. She's been pulling strings for years. She sat herself up in a role of power, controlling Edoardo.

The silence shifts and starts to grow heavy. I watch Enrico finish his drink in one swallow. Stephano is the one to break it. “She’s playing a long game. If we don’t move first?—”

“She’ll burn us all,” Marcello finishes for him.

I nod once. “So we move.”

Marcello sets his glass down with a quiet click.

“Not yet,” he says. “Not until I know exactly what she’s hiding.” He pauses before he adds, almost to himself, “And where she buried it.”

Stephano leans back, brows drawn. “You think there’s more?”

Marcello doesn’t flinch. “I know there is.”

Enrico tilts his head, frowning. “You mean like blackmail? Insurance?”

“Worse,” Marcello says. “Something she doesn’t want Edoardo to know. Something that would ruin him if it came out.”

I shift forward in my chair. “And what makes you so sure she hasn’t already used it?”

Marcello lifts his eyes to mine; they're cold and certain. “Because if she had, he’d be dead by now.”

That's a good point.

Stephano scrubs a hand over his face. “What the hell did we let into the inner circle?”

“Notwe,” I correct. “Edoardo.”

Enrico grimaces. “So what do we do?”

Marcello stares out through the window. “We dig,” he says. “We find what she’s buried. And then we burn it, before it burns us.”

I raise my glass. “To fire, then.”

Marcello meets my eyes. His grin is all teeth.

“To war.”

EPILOGUE 1

---