Bile creeps up my throat at how fast all of this is moving.
“Don’t worry,” Dominic offers from the sidelines, sensing my apprehension. “This part takes time. You’ll have to earn your stripes, which won’t happen this decade.”
Even knowing I’m still a long way off from taking full control of the syndicate, anxiety coils tight in my chest. Because without my usual outlet as the Outfit’s enforcer, what will happen tohim?What will happen to me?
My demon needs blood. He craves death. How am I supposed to feed him if I’m wearing suits and dealing with syndicate politics all day?
“You don’t look pleased,” my father notes flatly.
“It’s just a lot to take in,” I admit. “Especially after you tore into me at lunch.”
“You think I was berating you?” he asks, stepping out from behind the desk to stand opposite me. “Far from it. Don’t you see, Marcello? Everything I say, everything I do… it’s a lesson—one I’d rather you learn from me than from failure. Do you understand?” His face stays neutral, but his hazel eyes are almost pleading.
“I understand, Father.”
“Do you?” he presses, brows furrowed.
I nod.
“Good,” he says, satisfied with my answer, returning back to his seat. “Tomorrow morning at nine, you’ll meet Gio at the club. He’ll walk you through your duties and begin introductions to our most loyal and influential affiliates. I expect a full report on your progress every day before I leave the office. Understood?”
“Yes, boss,” I reply and remain in place, staring directly at him.
“Is there something else you’d like to discuss, Marcello?” Gio asks, since my father doesn’t.
“There is,” I say, still holding Vincent’s gaze. “With your permission, boss, I’d like to continue using my skills as an enforcer whenever suited.”
“You want to moonlight as an enforcer?” Gio asks, puzzled.
I’m not offended by Gio’s question or confusion. Unlike Dominic and Vincent, Gio doesn’t like getting blood on his seven-piece Gucci suits. Oh, he’ll get his hands dirty if he has to, but like Lucky and Enzo, he’d rather outthink his enemies than outfight them.
A long, pregnant pause follows as my father debates whether to let me continue my enforcer duties. Outwardly, I remain calm and unreadable, just like he taught me. But inside, I’m chaos incarnate.
There must be a flicker of desperation in my gaze because all too soon and not soon enough, do I hear the magic words spill from his mouth. “You have my permission.”
“Thank you, boss.”
I don’t wait for him to change his mind and make a quick exit, eager to get out while I still can. But I barely have time to get to the door before Stella storms in, fire in her veins and fury in her voice.
“That’s it?!” she shouts, glaring at our father, who now pinches the bridge of his nose. “You make Marcello an underboss and let him keep his enforcer job? That’s two jobs under you, Dad! When is it going to be my turn? What else do I have to do to prove I deserve to be inducted?”
Wincing at her pain, Dominic starts, “Stella—”
“No, Dad. You’re not the one I want answers from,” she snaps, pointing at Vincent like she’s ready to draw blood. “He is.”
But Vincent gives her nothing. Just silence. And somehow, that hurts her more than a thousand no’s.
Everyone in the room hears her heartbreak as if it had weight. As if it shattered something sacred in all of us.
I don’t know what drives me to do what I do next. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s impulse. Or maybe I just love my sister too much to watch her dreams be crushed so callously. Before I can stop myself, I step forward and meet our father’s eyes, stance firm, voice steady.
“Do it. Induct her.”
Stella whips her head toward me like I’ve grown a second one. Gio and Dom speak at once, trying to pull me back, but I tune them out.
My eyes are locked on Vincent, my will resolute.
He leans back in his chair, calm and cool as ever. “Did I mishear you, Marcello? Did you justorderme to induct your sister into the Outfit?”