Page 110 of The Crowned Garza
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DRENCHED ANDDRIPPINGin sweat, we sit against the ropes.
After several minutes of our harsh pants tapering to quiet exhales, Torin says, “They’re impressed with you.”
Due to the throbbing pain in my ribs, it takes a minute for his words to process. When they do, I drag in a readying inhale.
Well, hell. Are we about to havethatconversation? Or am I jumping the gun?
Uncertain, I nod and wait for him to go on.
“When I started Red Cage Investigations and hired a sharp, brilliant young man named Saint Lucian, I wasn’t inducted by The O yet,” he says. “By the time that happened and they alerted me to your true identity and intentions, you were already such a major part in the development of the company that I couldn’t imagine moving forward without you. At first, I was pissed, that even though I wanted to hang you from a ceiling and flay you alive, I couldn’t ’cause you were too damn invaluable.
“But I only wanted to do that because of my pride. ’Cause when I calmed down and thought about it, you might’ve been using me as an avenue to get to them, but you’ve only ever benefited me. You knew about The O and their plans for me long before I did. You knew what I would need. And you took that time to help me build it. Help me prepare for something I didn’t even know I needed to prepare for. And by the time they came knocking, there was a solid foundation, reliability, and implicit trust. You made it easy for me.You. When the pressure of their demands got tough, knowing I could fall backward and you’d be there… Man, that’s helped in ways I can’t even begin to express.”
With a disbelieving chuckle, he shakes his head. “Honestly, it boggled my mind why you wouldvoluntarilywant to be inducted by them, but I kinda figured it out over the years.” He takes a chug from his water bottle. “You’ve been my Crown long before they approved you. And you were approved years ago.”
“I was—what?”
“On paper, for me, yes, you were approved,” he explains. “But for them, you came with a lot of baggage. Too much shit they’d have to clean up if it all got messy. So they held back, watched and waited, to see how you would handle your family affairs, the cartel, Red Cage, and me. To determine if you’re worth the trouble and their resources.”
Torin and I have never spoken openly about me. Therealme. He’s the Kingmaker. Him knowing it all is a given. But “it all” was unspoken. Unvoiced. We continued in the pretense, aware that we bothknew. Except for when he’d do little things, like offer his condolences on Papa’s death and forcing me out of the office to handle my affairs.
“The more you moved forward without setting a foot wrong, the more you impressed them,” he goes on. “Living a double life, cutting ties with the cartel, cleaning up your old man’s messes, launchingmultiplesuccessful businesses and saving all the other families… It blew our minds how you were able to do it all, on your own, all while being the oil that greased the wheels to Red Cage. I’ve just…never seen anything like it.”
“Then why take so long?” I’m vexed by what I’m hearing. “I could’ve used the fucking help. That was the whole goddamn point.”
Yeah, I did it all. But doing it all by myself came at a taxing price. None of it waseasy. And I wasn’t always positive about the decisions I was making. Some insight from the omniscient organization would’ve been fucking nice in those times of doubt.
“Guy, when you’re that good, there are more reasons to fear you than to trust you. Yeah, you’re impressive. Buttooimpressive. There were a lot of questions and concerns surrounding what could happen if someone with your capabilities is given too much power. They dragged it out to test your commitment, your loyalty,” he clarifies. “Ten years is a long fucking time for someone craving power with nefarious intentions to feign loyalty. At some point, impatience and doubt would have them slip up here and there, show their hand, try to manipulate things.”
“And the verdict?” I grit out.
“You’ve been solid from the beginning, man. From the beginning.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I get why you’re pissed. But The Ochoosesits members, usually against their will. You were trying to get in. It’s a different process. And look, there’s no higher climb than The O. They’re the ceiling. And you’re the real deal, Santo Luciani. The real fucking deal.”
I drop my head back against the ropes. “Fuck.”
Shoulders sagging, an embarrassingly heavy breath rushes out of me.
Is it relief? Exhaustion? The long-awaited approval? The impending freedom from living a double life? I don’t know.
In this moment, I just feel…lighter. Less tense. Less burdened.
Will the feeling last? I don’t fucking know that either. But I haven’t felt this light since leaving Italy. So I’m basking in it.
For several minutes, I just sit there with my head hung, breathing in and out. Letting it all sink in. Torin’s hand rested assuringly on my shoulder.
“But…”
A laugh rumbles up my throat. “There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”
“You’ve got some decisions to make.”
I turn my gaze on him. “Yeah?”
“Being a Crown, being part of The O in general, the demand can be a lot at times. When they need me, they need me.”
“And when they need you, you need me.”
