Chapter 5 - BLOOD DOESN’T MAKE A FAMILY
Martina drew her weapon.
Aloyio didn’t.
“Tell me he’s lying.”
“I can’t.”
Her heart cracked.
Aloyio looked at the projector.
“I was involved in the operation that night.”
That was enough.
Martina fired.
The bullet struck the wall beside his head.
Dante reached for his gun.
Aloyio stopped him.
“No.”
Martina’s hands shook.
“You murdered my family.”
“No.”
“You just admitted it.”
“I admitted being there.”
Aloyio finally told her the truth.
At twenty-four, he had been his father’s lieutenant.
He received intelligence that Vincenzo was selling information to federal agents. Aloyio’s team was ordered to seize him before the evidence could leave Providence.
They were supposed to extract Vincenzo.
Not burn the house.
When Aloyio arrived, Calibri gunmen were already pouring gasoline through the ground-floor windows.
He fought his way inside.
He found Vincenzo.
But Martina’s mother was already dead.
“My father ordered the raid,” Aloyio said. “Someone changed the plan.”
“Carlo.”
“I suspect him.”
“You suspect?”
“I never had proof.”
Martina laughed bitterly.
“Everyone in our lives keeps hiding behind that word.”
She walked away.
Aloyio let her.
For two days Martina searched alone.
Then she found Sophia.
Not because Carlo made a mistake.
Because Sophia wanted to be found.
Her sister was waiting in their childhood cemetery beside their mother’s grave.
“You saw him?” Martina asked.
Sophia nodded.
“Dad.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Martina stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because he made me understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That he’s trying to destroy the people who destroyed us.”
Sophia believed him.
That was the frightening part.
Vincenzo had spent years building the Black Rook network, infiltrating rival organizations and provoking wars so the old families would destroy one another.
Carlo was his partner.
Together, they intended to collapse every major syndicate on the East Coast.
Including Aloyio’s.
“He said when it’s over, we can finally be free.”
Martina looked at her sister.
“And how many people die first?”
Sophia’s eyes shifted.
That was the question Vincenzo had avoided.
Martina found her father that evening.
He was waiting inside the ruins of their former house.
Weeds grew where her bedroom had been.
Vincenzo stood beside the blackened fireplace.
For a moment, Martina became twelve again.
Then he opened his arms.
“My little wolf.”
She wanted to run to him.
Instead she remained still.
“Why?”
His smile faded.
“Why what?”
“Why did you leave us?”
“To save you.”
“You don’t get to use those words.”
Vincenzo’s face hardened.
“You cannot understand what I was fighting.”
“Then explain it.”
He did.
The fire had taught him that families like theirs would never stop.
One boss died, another rose.
One alliance collapsed, another formed.
Vincenzo decided the only solution was to destroy the entire structure.
He manipulated Aloyio’s father.
The Calibris.
The Marchettis.
Even Carlo.
“You created the war.”
“I created an ending.”
“You murdered innocent people.”
“There are no innocent people in our world.”
“My mother?”
That stopped him.
Martina stepped closer.
“Was Mom innocent?”
Vincenzo looked away.
And suddenly she understood something devastating.
Her father had not become this man after the fire.
He had always been capable of becoming him.
“You taught me survival,” she whispered. “But somewhere along the way, you forgot what surviving was for.”
His expression softened.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
“Sophia already understands.”
“No. Sophia wants her father back.”
Vincenzo’s eyes hardened.
“Aloyio has poisoned you.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“It has everything to do with him.”
Vincenzo moved closer.
“He is his father’s son.”
“And I’m yours.”
Martina met his gaze.
“But I still get to choose what that means.”
Outside, tires screeched.
Vincenzo sighed.
“You brought him.”
“No.”
Gunfire erupted.
Calibri soldiers poured into the ruins.
Martina realized the truth.
Someone had followed her.
Vincenzo shoved her behind the fireplace as bullets shattered brick.
For ten brutal minutes, father and daughter fought side by side.
Their movements were almost identical.
The training had never left either of them.
Then Aloyio arrived.
He saw Vincenzo.
Vincenzo saw him.
Both men raised weapons.
Martina stepped between them.
“Enough!”
Neither lowered his gun.
Then another shot rang out.
Vincenzo jerked.
Blood appeared across his shoulder.
Aloyio had not fired.
Carlo stood behind them.
Smoking pistol in hand.
“Always sentimental, Vincenzo.”
Vincenzo collapsed.
Carlo smiled.
Then men emerged around him.
Not Calibris.
Tuscono soldiers.
Dozens.
Aloyio’s face changed as he recognized them.
Carlo had not infiltrated the organization.
He had taken it.
“Sorry, nephew,” Carlo said.
“I needed you alive long enough to build me an empire.”
His gaze shifted to Martina.
“And I needed her father alive long enough to destroy everyone who could challenge it.”
Vincenzo looked up in horror.
For the first time, he understood.
He had never been Carlo’s partner.
May you like
He had been Carlo’s weapon.
And now Carlo no longer needed him.
