Page 260 of Rosetti Family New York
"You're insane, Rafe," Dale spits, but I hear the waver in his voice, smell his sweat and fear. "You fucking touch me and my dad will wipe you all out."
"Maybe. But fuck, I'm gonna to enjoy it."
Part of me wonders if my brothers can see the change in me – if they notice how this isn't about the money anymore. Dom would call it a weakness, this new fire burning inside me. This need to avenge not just a business slight, but a personal one. To hurt the man who hurt someone Sloane loved. To cross lines I've always kept clear.
I don't rush. I hit like thunder. A clean punch to the gut, then the jaw. Dale crumples, scrambling, but I don't stop. Fists. Knees. Elbow. This is methodical. My fury isn't loud, it's cold. Precise. Absolute. Practised. Dale staggers, gasping for air, and I go straight for the soft spots. He's got no chance, but I want him to feel every single hit, every squeeze of my fists. I don't need a weapon. I'm gonna tear him apart with these hands. A bone-shattering strike to the ribs. A swift, brutal kick to the side.
He drops to his knees, but I don't let up. I don't even give him time to breathe. We're playing by Rosetti rules, and he knows what that means. He's already dead. I drive him to the floor, making sure he stays down. Everything in me is focused, relentless. This is his punishment, and I'm gonna make it stick.
Dale spits out blood. "Rafe—please—" he gasps.
I yank him up by his shirt, waiting a moment for him to get his feet under him, then I hit his jaw like a truck, and he stumbles back, crashing into the cage. He holds up a hand, trying to catch his breath, trying to catch any kind of break.
"I'll give it back, I swear. You can have it all."
"I know I can."
He cowers, trying to talk me down. He never had the stomach for real violence, not even in juvie. I slam him against the wall, feel the crack of bone, feel the adrenaline that makes me morealive than anything ever could. This is what I'm made for. I drag him to the floor and hit him again, hard enough to make him spit blood and panic.
"Don't do this," he pleads, his words choked and frantic. "Please, man. Please. I can get you the money. I can get you more."
I feel the rush in my hands, the clean heat of it.
"Dale Callahan begging?" I say, my voice dripping with contempt. "Thought I'd never see the day."
I let my fist crush his nose.
He screams, loud enough to make me wince. I don't stop. I want to be sure. I don't fucking stop until I'm certain.
"You think we're square now, Rafe? You think I'm gonna—fuck!"
He's a mess of blood and tears and bruises, back on the floor, curled up in a ball. He squirms, a helpless desperation taking over.
"You're making a mistake," he gasps, "a huge—"
I slam my foot down, and he sputters, wheezing like he's about to lose consciousness. I want him awake. I want him to know exactly what's happening.
"Dumb fuck," I say, shaking the ache from my hands. "You already made it."
His eyes are wide, full of terror. He makes a gurgling sound, desperate and pathetic.
I bend down and grind my knuckles into Dale's throat, hearing a squish as his Adam's apple pops. "She was twenty-six. She died scared. You sleep on that," I say.
As I stare down at him, I realize I'm crossing a line I've never crossed before. Not just taking a life – I've done that enough times – but doing it for personal reasons. For someone else. For Sloane. Putting her justice, her need for answers, ahead of the clean, professional distance I've always maintained.
This isn't how Rosettis do business. We're cold. Calculated. We don't let emotions cloud our judgment. But I'm breaking that rule for her. Because somehow, amid all this blood and darkness, she's become more important than the code I've lived by my entire life.
And then I finish it. Quiet. Efficient. Dale stops moving.
I stand there a moment longer, chest rising and falling. Blood on my hands. Not a shred of guilt.
The whole world is quiet, just for a moment.
"Jesus, Rafe," Matteo mutters.
They let me catch my breath, don't say a word until I'm ready. Five brothers, and not one of us breaks the silence. Dale's body lies still, blood seeping from his mouth, pooling dark under his head. His eyes are wide, frozen in the kind of terror you can't fake.
I breathe it in, the satisfaction heavy and thick in the air. The adrenaline ebbs, leaving me with that familiar hollow calm. Then I see Matteo flip his coin. Once. Twice. He's waiting for me to make the call. They all are.
