Chapter 45

Dad seems strangely serene on the drive out to our warehouse. We got the call earlier that the shipment’s all finished and waiting for the final inspection before the guns and drugs get moved out into the city. He’s not talkative, but he’s also very calm, which helps with my own nerves.

It took a lot less convincing to get Dad on board with this plan. He doesn’t like it, but I think getting Santoro thrown behind bars is better than killing the guy and he’s willing to go along with that outcome.

I’ve never done anything like this before. Even though my whole life has been spent around the Famiglia, I’ve never gone on an actual mission before. The boys prepped me—especially Brody—but suddenly all their training is gone and I can’t even remember how to use the gun tucked into my waistband. The gun I didn’t want, but my husband practically forced on me.

Even though it’s dangerous, I know it has to be me. Simon wouldn’t come out for a simple inspection, and Davide is too deadly and would scare Santoro off. Some other random Capo or lieutenant would make sense, but they’re not trustworthy enough and could ruin everything if they made the wrong move. Brody tried to argue for sending Dad alone, but I don’t trust my father, not when it comes to Santoro.

“When I was younger, your mother used to argue with me all the time,” Dad says out of nowhere. I flinch a little, surprised by his voice. The car pulls into the warehouse parking lot, but Dad doesn’t get out yet. He’s smiling out the window. “God, that woman would get so mad whenever I went out on business. She’d say that I’m the Don, I have men to handle the dangerous stuff for me, but she never understood. I won respect and power by leading from the front, not by making others do all my dirty work. She hated it though.”

“How’s she feel now?” I ask, genuinely curious. I don’t get many glimpses into their relationship.

“She’s used to it now, unfortunately. But if she knew you were here, she’d be worried.” He glances over at me. “You’ll be fine, sweetie.”

“I know that. Brody’s probably a wreck though.”

“Luciano would never hurt you.” He pushes open the door.

“Why do you think that?” I follow him out. He takes my arm and leans against me. His limp is bad, and he’s using a cane even though he probably should have arm crutches. “Santoro kidnapped Davide.”

“But Luciano didn’t hurt him. The fire was an accident. It was my fault.”

“Dad—”

“You won’t understand.” He looks pensive as we approach the entrance to the old metal-constructed building. Scrap parts of rusting machines languish in the weed-covered lot. “Nobody could know, not when I was the Don, but now—” He pauses and smiles to himself, but his smile quickly fades. “I should have told you all sooner, but your mother made me swear not to say anything. After Davide was taken, she begged me to forget everything with Luciano, and I swore to her that I’d do it. And so I’ve kept the secret all these years. At this point it’s like second nature walking around with the truth hidden away.”

I feel myself shiver. This is the closest I’ve ever come to peeking beyond my father’s veil. I’ve always known there’s more to him than what he lets his family see, but now he’s hinting at something darker than I ever imagined.

“What secret?” I ask, heart racing, my fingers sweaty.

But he pushes open the door and doesn’t answer. It creaks loudly and echoes into the empty hallway. He moves on, limping on his cane as he makes his way to the main storage space, and we step out onto the big, open central floor. It’s covered in boxes, shipping crates and various containers, and Dad pauses to take it all in.

“We might as well get started,” he says. “This is what I’ve been reduced to now. The former Don doing grunt work. But don’t tell Simon I said that. He thinks it makes me happy to contribute even in these small ways, and I don’t want to disabuse him of that idea.”

My head’s reeling. I want to push him on this secret thing, but my nerves get bad, and all I can do is walk after him. I keep glancing up at the catwalks above waiting for shadows to appear, men with guns prepared to rain bullets down onto our skulls. But the place is quiet except for the sound of my father opening boxes and murmuring to himself as if he’s really inspecting the goods.

I follow, trying to look bored. Sweat’s pooling under my arms. He pretends to explain how a particular rifle works, and I feign interest. Dad makes a joke and laughs at it, and I marvel at how good he is at acting like nothing is strange here.

I’m a trembling wreck. I’m happy I don’t have to actually open one of these crates since I’m pretty sure my hands would shake too much and it’d give us away. After a few minutes, I start to think maybe Brody followed through with his threat and called the whole meeting off in a vain effort to spare me from danger, and a part of me actually hopes I get to go home without having to face Santoro head-on. Because if my former uncle is here, that means he’s here to kill my father. And Dad doesn’t seem to mind. It’s almost like he wants this.

There’s a noise at the far end of the space followed by the sound of footsteps. Dad stops what he’s doing and looks at me, a little smile on his face, like we’re about to get a wonderful surprise. I move closer to him and watch as Luciano Santoro enters the room followed by a single man, the corrupt cop Luca Moretti.

They walk toward us and Dad turns to face his former best friend.

I’m very aware that the last time they met, Dad got shot and nearly died.

The room feels humid like moisture’s dripping down the boxes. Santoro stops ten yards away while Moretti leans up against one of the stacks of crates, a gun held loosely in his hand, not even bothering to hide it. Dad should be afraid, but instead he’s got a smile on his face, and he takes a step closer to his old friend. I stay behind him, fighting with myself. I should run, I should hide. I should do anything but stand here and stare.

“It’d been a while, Luciano,” Dad says, and his voice sounds almost fond. It’s horrible. The most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen. I want to scream at him: this man tried to kill you, this man stole your son, this man has been your mortal enemy for a long time. But he doesn’t seem angry.

Santoro smiles. His lips curl back, and I’m aware that he was handsome once, back when he was younger, back when he was my uncle. But now he’s balding, overweight, wrinkly. All the scars and evidence of a life lived very hard clear on his face. But his eyes remain sharp.

“Hello, Alessandro. I was skeptical when I heard they had you doing stock-boy duty, but here you are with your daughter, no less.”

“Elena can’t help herself. I would’ve come alone but she likes taking care of me.” He laughs as if he’s talking to an old friend. It’s perverse and disturbing. “Did you come all this way for me?”

“You know I did. Do you remember what happened the last time I saw you?”

“You tried to shoot Davide. I wouldn’t let you.” Dad shrugs as if it’s nothing. “Life gets in the way sometimes.”

“Yes, it does.” Santoro’s smile fades away. “I never wanted this, you know. Even back then I hoped that Freddie would see reason⁠—”

“Please, don’t talk about her.” Dad sounds pained. He moves closer to Santoro. “This should be about us. You came here to put an end to all of this, didn’t you?”

Santoro nods once. “You know I did.”

“I was so angry with you, you know,” Dad says softly. They’re ten feet away now. Dad’s too close. If Brody’s waiting in the rafters with a sniper rifle, Dad might be putting himself in the line of fire. He needs to back up. I need to grab him and pull him back. But I can’t move.

It’s the way they’re talking to each other. There’s so much fondness in Dad’s eyes and even Santoro’s expression is almost loving. Like they’re dear old friends reuniting after a long, long time. Except these two have been trying to hurt each other since I was a little girl.

“What did you have to be angry about?” Santoro’s head tilts to the side. His hands turn to fists. “You’re the one who left me.”

“You know why I had to. When Freddie found out⁠—”

“It’s always her, isn’t it?” Santoro’s jaw ticks. I don’t understand what they’re saying. I can’t connect words to actions of the men standing before me. But I’m wrapped up in this conversation and only vaguely aware of Luca Moretti also staring at the pair of them with his eyebrows tight and his mouth hanging open.

“She’s the mother of my children. The matron of my Famiglia. You knew it was always going to come back to her. I love her as much as I loved you.”

I cover my mouth. I don’t understand. Santoro steps forward, a snarl on his lips, real anger in his face now.

“You could have found a way. You could have made her understand that it wasn’t some fling we had, but that we were in love, that we mattered.”

“She threatened to leave me,” Dad says and the agony in his voice makes my stomach churn. “What was I supposed to do? Luciano, it killed me back then, to end things with you the way that I did. And even after you took Davide⁠—”

“I was never going to hurt him.” Santoro seems to shrink back, and I swear he actually looks contrite. “I went too far. I loved your children, you know that.” His eyes flick to mine and I can’t move. I feel like my legs won’t work. I should be screaming, pleading with them to make sense. I should be running for the door and begging Brody to get in here and end this. But I can’t.

“I know that, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. It broke my heart when you turned against me, but I never let go of you. Not even after we became enemies.”

“Alessandro.” Santoro steps closer. Now the two men are only a few feet apart. “I’m sorry. I wanted to say this to you a thousand times, but we both know how this has to end. I never should have taken Davide. I never should have run away. But I loved you so much, and you broke my heart.”

Dad nods, and he’s crying. I’ve never seen my father cry like that. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

They were lovers. They weren’t just best friends—they were together. They had a relationship, and when Mom found out about it, she made Dad end things. That drove Santoro crazy, and he made some terrible, stupid decisions, and now here we are, standing in this warehouse. All because these two men loved each other but couldn’t be together.

“You know how the Famiglia is.” Dad’s bitterness is palpable. “They never would have accepted me if they knew about the two of us. It wasn’t just Freddie, but it was the organization too.”

“It took me many years to understand, but I do understand.” Luciano’s two feet from him now. Close enough that they could touch.

“But then you came back home.” Dad’s tone shifts. There’s palpable tension now, and I feel my legs starting to thaw, and I can finally start to see my father for who he truly is.

A man who was in love. A man with a broken heart.

That’s why he kept letting Santoro go. That’s why he kept holding back. He knew that he’d hurt Santoro all those years ago, and maybe on some level, they were still in love. Only they could never be together.

“You know why.” Santoro’s blinking away tears. “We have to end this, my old friend. You were everything to me, but we can’t keep killing each other because of what happened all those years ago. That’s why I attacked the oasis. That’s why I tried to destroy the one place where I’ve ever truly felt at home. You have to understand.”

“I do understand.” Dad wipes his tears away. “The moment those trucks rolled onto my street and began shooting at my homes, I knew the man I loved was finally gone.”

Santoro flinches. He looks truly agonized. For a moment, I think he’s going to reach out and touch my father, and I take a step forward. But instead, he looks over at Moretti.

“It’s time,” he says.

Moretti stands up like he only just remembered that he has a part to play in this. “Let’s get it done then.” He raises his gun and aims it at Dad’s head.

Nobody moves. The warehouse is quiet.

I open my mouth to scream for them to stop. Where is Brody? Where is Captain Kennedy? This place should be swarming with police right now.

That was the deal: get Santoro in this room, get him talking, get him on tape admitting that he played a part in the oasis shooting. The wire Dad’s wearing got enough.

But nobody’s coming and Dad’s about to die.