Page 17 of Roque

“Dog? Come with me.” Reggie sauntered in with two others.

“Name’s Roque.”

“You are Dog until you earn the right to have your name back. You betrayed your familia. Didn’t carry out your last order and killed your Uncle. Both offenses are against the code.”

“I can’t take either back.”

“No, but you can be our dog to train, little king.”

Constantine wheeled in, “Dog. Obey your master. You will work off your debt to us. I’m not foolish enough to give you a weapon. You will be our new grim reaper.”

With no other choice, I climbed in a limo between three made men. Two hours later, I’d taken three souls. Over the course of my time with Constantine I added dozens more. And with each death blow I dealt, I vowed two things: The first, Constantine himself would be the last soul I took by my own hand and the second, when I was the head of my Syndicate I’d be done being the Reaper. I’d give that job to someone else. Days blended to weeks and I lost track of time.

When I was almost seventeen, I asked Constantine if my cousins could come train. He smiled that greasy smile of his. They spent ten days in the pit. Vito and Geno wouldn’t look me in the eyes for months. They hated what I made them become. But family pride and basic need made them do it. They were poor and their mother had a dozen mouths to feed. They wanted in the mob for years and now being a part of it wasn’t all money and designer suits. It was hell. Sheer hell.

I promised to make them gods beside me. One night after a particular hellish day, where none of us could sleep, we sat out in the barn on the floor next to the pit smoking a pack between the three of us while hoping our hands would cease to shake.

Constantine.

The Castellione’s. They controlled the uglier businesses. A few weeks earlier, we helped move military weapons into Turkey. Warheads, ground to air missiles and the like. Today, a commercial jet was shot down. The faces of the kids who boarded that plane haunted us as we watched the news.

They were too young. Too good.

I thought sacrificing my soul was worth it. But that day it wasn’t. The three of us knew it was on us. Those lives lost. Those kids who would never live. It wasn’t a simple war between the five families anymore. We were doing global shit and sin and it was too much, even for us.

“We can’t go on like this.” Vito took a drag. The six months he’s spent here has aged him. Fine lines marred his eighteen-year-old face. His brother, Geno was ten months younger than me and he looked like shit too.

“I know. I have a plan.”

“It’s more than Constantine against us. It’s the Castellione crew… the other families… he lied to you Roque. Instead of setting you free all he did was make you a slave for life.”

I gritted my teeth. I was cocky and full of arrogance when I swaggered into his lair. He did fulfill one promise though, I learned everything from the ground up. I listened, watched, and made a million mental notes. He set me up better than I could ever imagined. All I needed was to break free.

“America. We’ll make our move there. When we overtake Chicago, we’ll come back to Italy. They will all pay.”

“How? They’ll kill what’s left of our family.”

A ghost of a smile played with my lips as I exhaled watching the smoke rise up.

“Constantine is an old fool. Too busy sucking his own dick to see what’s been happening right under his nose. I know his safe combination, every bank routing number… all the details to break us free.

We end Reggie and the rest of the men. Slit their throats in their sleep. I’ll snuff out the old bastard. He’s mine. We’ll use his cash and connections to get the fuck out of Italy. Take your Ma and crew, we’ll start fresh in the states. Become Americans. Lose our accents. Get properly educated. The day will come when the Salvatore’s come back and when we do—I’ll slay them all.”

“All the families?”

“Anyone who won’t bend a knee.”

We finished our smokes all the while drunk on thoughts of freedom. We planned and executed. In less than a week it was time.

I dressed in the finest suit he had gifted me, went down to the study and made a fire. I took the poker in my hand, fed it to the flames until the tip was orange with flame. I walked into his room.

I stood over him.

My maleficent presence alone awoke him from slumber. He wasn’t surprised. The fucker had the nerve to smile. “Finally, at last. Free me, my son. I want to walk again, even if it’s over the hot coals in hell.

Death was too good for him. It was what he yearned for. I dragged him out of bed, wheeled him out into the cold and into the barn.

“Strip.” I commanded.

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