Page 58 of Broken Mafia Prince
He steps forward and holds out a tablet. I eye the device before taking it. On the screen is a picture of an M spray-painted on the side of the warehouse that was attacked. My eyebrows hike up in surprise at the evidence.
The whole thing seems so stupidly obvious. Why would the Montanaris make such a big hit and then announce it? It’s like painting a clear target on their forehead and inviting us to take a shot. Unless it’s a trap, hoping that we’ll come for revenge, and they can take us all down.
My instincts say that’s not it, though. This feels more like someone is trying to frame the Montanaris up and lead both sides into a war. But who? Who would stand to gain from this?
“We have to act now, boss,” Tommaso seethes. “I’m so sick of these Montanaris causing trouble at every turn. It’s high time we razed them to the ground.”
“I don’t think they did this.”
Surprise flashes on his face, and he stares at me like I’ve completely lost my senses. “How much clearer can the evidence be?” he finally blurts out after an extended period of silence.
“Get the car ready. I’m going to the docks to check things out for myself,” I tell him.
“Yes, boss.” He nods and walks out of the office.
I stare at the photo on the screen for a while longer, my mind racing with possibilities. I have an odd sense that what is happening is much bigger than it seems, and my intuition has never steered me wrong.
The warehouseat the docks is in a pitiful state. Whoever is behind this made sure to leave the place in as much chaos as possible. Some hint of smoke still rises from the buildings, and I can see some of my men picking their way around, trying to salvage anything. Even at a first glance, I can already tell that there’s nothing salvageable; the hit was thorough.
“Boss,” one of the men acknowledges me with a nod as I step down from the SUV and run a critical eye over the damage. I’m going to have to pay the cops a boatload for them to look the other way and let us handle it our way.
“Those fucking Montanaris!” I hear one man snarl. “I can’t wait until we have their heads on spikes.”
I know that all of the men are counting on me to declare war. That’s exactly what my father would do if he were here. Hesitating on that decision will make the men see me as weak, and I can’t afford that if I plan on taking over one day. I can’t give anyone leave to think I’m not capable of doing what needs to be done.
Steeling my shoulders, I stroll through the wreckage, nudging debris aside with my shoe in search of real evidence. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for until something on the floor catches my eye. I go down to my haunches and nudge the dirt apart, revealing the metal.
Pulling out a handkerchief from my pocket, I wipe the dirt away from the object, stilling when I realize what it is. The gold insignia of the Echelon Syndicate sits in my palm. I close the handkerchief around it and stick it into my pocket, standing up.
A sense of uneasiness washes over me at finding that object here. Why is it here? My father is a part of the Syndicate, so we’renot their enemies. There’s no reason for them to come after one of our warehouses. Did my father do something against them?
They are a vindictive group who can easily decide to destroy even one of their members. No matter how hard Father tries to convince me to join the Syndicate, I’ve never budged. I want nothing to do with the bunch of them. I fell into the mafia lifestyle with my eyes and arms wide open, and I realize that it’s something that I needed—the structure, the violence, strategizing, and being in charge of people.
The Echelon Syndicate is a whole other ballgame. You don’t get into something like that without losing your entire humanity, and there’s no getting out. Some of the things they’ve done turn my stomach, and I’ve got a solid stomach.
So the question is, why would they try to set the Montanaris up? Is my father behind this? Or are they doing this to put us in the middle of a war where we can eliminate each other? What reason can they possibly have to want to get us out of the scene?
I’m so deep in thought that I don’t realize I’m not alone until I hear someone speak.
“It has to be somewhere around here,” the man’s voice says. “We can’t let them find it.”
I clock that they’re hunting for the insignia pendant, and I shift to hide behind a pillar, waiting. From my position, I make out four armed men searching around the rubble. I tap a hand to my pocket to make sure the item is still there and consider calling for backup.
On a second thought, I don’t want anyone else getting involved in this until I know exactly what the fuck is going on. With that thought in mind, I step out of the shadows behind one of the men.
I tap him, and when he turns around, I punch him in the throat. He drops his gun, gurgling and gasping for air, and I grab him by the back of his skull and smash his head into the pillar,once, twice, three times. The man drops dead, but by then, the other three have caught wind of what’s happening.
I’m immediately surrounded, and one of the men opens fire. I duck behind the pillar and pull out my gun, raising it to the light switch on the far wall and firing. A moment later, all the lights inside the warehouse flicker out, plunging the room into darkness.
The men start shooting around randomly, but I wait and listen, biding my time. It’s only when I hear their bullet chambers click that a slow smile spreads across my face.
“What the—” He never gets to finish his sentence, because I’m on him instantly, fists flying into his face.
Another of the men comes at me from behind, and my elbow is ready, driving into his throat. The third guy gets a head butt and a knee to the nuts. He lets out a pained howl and drops to his knees.
“Reload! Reload your fucking gun!” one cries.
I go to hit him again, but I miscalculate the recovery of the other man and the weapons he has on hand. I end up getting my arm sliced by the arc of his glinting blade.
