Page 136 of Savage Saint
"Only for you, Butterfly."
We walk to the front door together, Kasia's good hand in mine. Dante opens it before we can knock, his expression grim but composed. Behind him, I can see Alessa hovering in the hallway, her face pale.
"Angelo." Dante's eyes move to Kasia, taking in the bandaged arm and oversized shirt. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," Kasia answers before I can. "Thank you for including me in this."
Dante nods once. "Family takes care of family."
We follow him into the living room where Luca is sprawled in one of the leather chairs, a tumbler of whiskey already in his hand despite the early hour. Arrow's face stares at us through a laptop screen on the dining table. They're muted and appear to be busy typing at warp speed.
"Well," Luca says without looking up, "the old bastard finally took his last swim."
"Show some respect," Dante says sharply.
"For what? The man who endlessly cheated on our mother? Who turned Angelo into his personal attack dog? Who made youshoulder the responsibility of an empire when you were barely eighteen?" Luca takes a long sip of whiskey. "Sorry, but I'm fresh out of respect for dear old dad."
The room falls silent. Even Arrow stops typing and looks up.
"He's dead," Dante says finally. "Whatever he was, whatever he did, he's gone now. We handle this with dignity."
"For the other families," I add, understanding the game we're playing. "They need to see strength, not weakness."
"Exactly." Dante moves to the bar, pouring himself a scotch. "The funeral needs to be perfect. Every family in the States will be watching. They'll be looking for cracks, for opportunities."
Alessa appears with a cup of tea, which she presses into Kasia's hands. "How's your arm?"
"Sore, but manageable." Kasia accepts the tea gratefully. "I'm sorry for your loss," she adds, looking around the room.
"Are you?" Luca asks, not unkindly. "Because I'm not."
"Luca," Dante warns.
"What? We're family now, right? That means we can be honest with each other." Luca raises his glass in a mock toast. "Here's to Massimo Santoro. May he rest in peace and leave the rest of us the fuck alone."
Nobody drinks to the toast, but nobody argues with it either.
"The funeral," I say, steering us back to business. "When?"
"A week from now," Arrow answers without looking up from their laptop. "I'm already reaching out to the other families. Full traditional service. St. Bartholomew's Cathedral, then the family mausoleum."
"Security?"
"Massive. Every capo, every soldier, every ally and enemy will be there. It's a powder keg waiting to explode."
I feel Kasia shift beside me, her tactical mind probably already analysing threats and escape routes. Good. I want her thinking like that.
"What about Nicolosi?" I ask.
The room goes quiet again. Dante sets down his glass with deliberate care.
"What about him?"
"He's been testing our boundaries for months. Alessa's kidnapping, the attack on the casino, those bodies at the docks. Now our patriarch is dead. If he's going to make a move, this is when he'll do it."
"During the funeral?" Alessa asks, horrified.
"Maybe. Or right after, when emotions are high and defences might be down." I look at each of my brothers. "He sees opportunity in chaos."
