It snapped tight –
And he faceplanted on the ground.
Adriano grabbed Lazaro by his collar, dragged him over to the edge of the pit, and forced him up onto his knees.
“That’s deep enough,” Adriano said.
Giorgio looked uneasily at Lazaro before pulling himself up out of the grave.
“Please, I’m begging you, please don’t do this!” Lazaro babbled. “I didn’t mean to – it was a mistake – I know that now, please!”
“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” Adriano snarled.
“Giorgio,” Lazaro pleaded, “tell my mother and father I’m sorry – tell them – ”
Giorgio looked away as though he was embarrassed for Lazaro.
Adriano pulled his Glock out of his shoulder holster.
There was aclackas he pulled back the slide to chamber a round.
“PLEASE –pleasedon’t do this!” Lazaro screamed in terror.
“Lazaro,” I said softly.
He looked up at me as though hoping I might be his salvation.
Little did he know.
Since my brothers and I were teenagers, we had witnessed our father execute three men who had turned traitor against our family.
Normally that sort of thing would have been handled by a foot soldier. But when the treachery was personal – when it had been committed by someone my father knew and trusted – he insisted upon doing it himself.
There was a standard speech he had given all three men. It had been seared into my memory; I repeated it almost word for word.
“Lazaro Reboletti… you have been found guilty of treason against our family.”
As soon as he heard those words, Lazaro began to sob again.
“The penalty for this crime is death.
“No request for mercy shall be entertained; no quarter shall be given.
“We take no pleasure in this act.
“Take solace in knowing that your crime is yours, and yours alone…
“And none of your loved ones will suffer for your transgressions – only you.
“Make your peace with God…
“And may He have mercy upon your soul.”
Lazaro said one last word – “Please – ”
Before Adriano put the gun to the back of his head and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed through the olive groves as Lazaro toppled into the grave.