Page 152 of Chicago Sin
“Emilio violated his oath.” The room goes quiet when Don G speaks. This is it: Emilio’s sentencing.
Looking around, I can tell I’m not the only guy who isn’t entirely comfortable. Everyone looks grim. Hands stuffed in pockets, no hint of pleasure in any of it. Emilio may have fucked me, but he’s still one of our own. He’s Family. A brother-in-arms.
And he’s been a favorite of the don’s.
“He betrayed us all when he attempted to kill a member of La Famiglia.”
Emilio lets out a sob, but he doesn’t beg. He knows better.
Don G crosses his arms over his chest and lets his words settle over all of us. Lets the tension grow. “Armando, you are the injured party. What justice do you seek?”
Fuck.
I hoped the decision would be made for me.
“I’m not the only injured party,” I say, looking toward Marco. “He got shot in the ass.”
“And he’s a bloody mess because of it,” Marco says. “Don’t worry. I got mine.”
“You sure?” I ask. “You want to shoot him in the ass too. Seems only fair.”
“I considered it,” Marco says with a smirk.
Emilio peers up at me through the swollen slits his eyes have become. There’s pleading in his gaze. Apology. “I’m sorry, Mando. I tried to cancel it, I swear to Christ, I did.”
Of course, that reminds me of Hannah, which makes me feel again.
“Yeah, I know.”
The room is silent. I don’t think anyone even breathes.
“Hannah heard you calling it off.”
I watch hope bloom on Emilio’s face. He drags himself up on his forearms, then sits up with a wince, holding his ribs, which are undoubtedly broken.
I shove my hands in my pockets like the other men. Consider Emilio, the sorry stronzo at my feet. “You’re such a fucking pansy, you couldn’t even try to kill me yourself.”
Tears fall down Emilio’s face. He spreads his hands. “I’m sorry, Mando. I just love her so much. I always loved her. Even before you went in the can. I just wanted to live to marry her.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
I sense the agitation in the room at my dry threat. The implication that he wouldn’t live to marry Grace.
I meet his pleading gaze. “Offer me restitution,” I demand, throwing it out like a challenge. Like I might not accept his offer.
Relief and eagerness spread across his face. “Anything. I’ll pay it. Name your price.”
“How much is that wedding worth to you?”
“Anything,” Emilio begs.
“Fifty thousand.” I throw out the first number that pops in my head.
“One hundred,” Don G interjects firmly.
Emilio nods eagerly, dragging himself slowly to his knees. “I’ll pay it. Yes, of course. I’ll pay it.”
“Bring it to him tomorrow, and we’ll put this to bed.” He looks at me. “No retributions.”
