Page 261 of Rosetti Family New York
"Let's go," I say.
Domenico is first, his footsteps precise and measured as he crosses to the bar. Leonardo watches him come. The twins are quick to follow, Emilio's face a blank mask, and Matteo flipping his coin with a lazy calm. I grunt, shaking out the stiffness in my hands, blood still dripping down my fingers. Domenico slides us our shot glasses with slow, unhurried motions. Like we're celebrating. I guess we are. The silence hangs a moment longer, then we down our drinks in a single, synchronized motion.
No one speaks, but the look in their eyes says more than words ever could. It's done. The first shot of the war, or the last. Time will tell.
We walk back to the body, the tension bleeding out of us as it sinks in.
"We done here?" Emilio asks, nudging Dale's lifeless arm with the tip of his shoe.
His eyes are ice, calm, unaffected.
I nod, feel the cold seep back in as the heat leaves my veins.
"We should clean this up before Carmela or Besi has to see," Dom says.
His voice is measured, always, but I hear the hint of warning under it.
"Leave it."
I pull the gloves from my hands and drop them on Dale's chest, a message as clear as any fucking thing I've ever written.
A challenge, a death sentence, a declaration of war.
I turn my back and head for the door, feeling the rush, feeling the fucking madness, feeling the everything.
As I walk away, I realize something's changed in me. I've killed for money, for family, for business – but never for someone I care about. Never because I wanted to make the world safer for one specific person. The thought should terrify me – this shift in priorities, this weakness I've always avoided. Instead, I feel something close to peace. Like maybe this is who I've been becoming all along.
"Let them know we're just getting started."
31
Rafaele
The city is burning. The flames flicker and dance in the reflection of my sunglasses as the sun sets, casting long shadows over the buildings. New York is a city of secrets, and tonight, one of them has been let loose.
I stand at the foot of our family’s mansion, feeling the weight of it all. The war that’s coming, the lives that hang in the balance, and Dale Callahan’s blood still fresh on my hands. All around me, New York is spinning into chaos. Sirens blare in the distance, and cars honk angrily in traffic. But here, it's eerily quiet. As if my father's mansion exists outside time and space.
“Rafaele.”
I turn at the voice, see her standing there on top of the marble steps, wearing a soft T-shirt and sleep shorts. Sloane's face is pale, her eyes wide, her hair pulled up into a loose bun. She walks down slowly, each step calculated and deliberate. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides, like she’s bracing herself for something.
“What happened?” she asks softly.
Her eyes stay glued to me, searching for answers.
I don’t reply. Not right away. I just watch her, absorbing the strength she carries despite everything. The muscles around her eyes are taut with tension, but she doesn’t waver. She’s strong.
When I finally speak, my voice is rough.
“It’s done.”
It’s all I can manage, and even that feels like too much. I don’t elaborate. She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t need to. We both know what it means. She walks toward me slowly, like she’s approaching something wild that might bolt. Or something dangerous that might break her.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Her words strike a place that’s raw and aching. It’s not just concern. She’s here, and she’s not going anywhere. If I were a better man, I’d send her away right now.
But I’m not. So I stand still and let her come closer.
