Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Don’t insult me by speaking to your dad and allowing me a free pass. I agreed to a pound. I’m honor bound by it and I’d never forgive you for using your tongue to speak against my honor.”
"My tongue?”
“Use it for other things.”
“Like what?”
"Praying,” I deadpanned. “Just like the Rabbi who was martyred for teaching under Roman rule. As he died he recited the Shama by saying all my life I longed to love God with all my soul—now I finally can.”
“That’s beautiful,” Raven murmured.
“Devotion,” I said as I squeezed her hand, “is easy when painted with pretty words—devotion is hard, when it’s proven with pain.”
Her eyes met mine. I couldn’t read her and for once she didn’t respond. Her face was pale, her lips parted like she wanted to find words but was at a loss.
I inclined my head toward her right before we reached the end of the hall. The door was older than the others, wood instead of iron.
After all, it wasn’t meant for torture.
It was meant for sacrifice.
And in the mafia, sacrifice must be heard by all, no matter how painful the cries might be.
The other doors were designed to keep the screams inside the room.
The one I was standing in front of was created to let the screams out like sacred bloody worship.
We stopped in front of the door.
The made man guarding it changed depending on the family, but they always wore a white blindfold, from here on out. I would come back a new man; he would only see me as the new me.
Tradition.
He was at least six foot two and appeared young from what I could see. “Name?”
“Ace De Lange.”
"Patron Saint?”
I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “The Penitent Thief, Saint Dismas.”
He went very still—too still.
The basement was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the refrigeration units they kept for—things.
"The saint crucified next to Jesus. A saint who begged to be saved, who defended Jesus, who used his last few breaths as a sinner—to beg on behalf of another, and hope for forgiveness.”
"Correct.”
He held out his hand.
Slowly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Patron Saint Card. It wasn’t stained with blood—typically it would only be stained once I was killed or left the mafia which meant I would be killed and the card would be burned again.
The first time you burned your patron saint, you entered in.
The last time it burned, you left with it.
Dead.
"For safekeeping.”
He nodded. “Proceed.”
"Thank you.”
The door creaked when I opened it wide. The walls were covered with pictures from generation after generation of the Alfero family. Several sculptures of patron saints were scattered around the room on different tables with candles lit.
And in the very front, a row of candles and a cross.
Dante, in my opinion, had been the most religious of all of the bosses. I never asked him why, figuring even if I did he wouldn’t offer me the truth.
I just knew that there wasn’t a day when a candle was not lit in this room—I would know, because for two years it was my job to make sure of it.
I took a shift a day.
I was very good at lighting a match.
The room carried a slight chill and was too quiet for comfort. Raven stood next to me as Ivan and Dante filtered in.
Behind them, Phoenix, Junior, and Serena.
Oh, shit.
I heard the footsteps.
Braced myself as King made his entrance.
The Cappo del Cappi.
The boss of bosses.
King Campisi.
He was young, like so young it was crazy—around the same age as Junior, mid-to-late twenties, and these guys were ruling the non-free world as the new bosses of the Five Families and doing a damn good job at it.
He’d been part of my training when I was in college.
He had a sense of humor that could shift into rage in any given moment. My jaw was proof of that.
"Ace.” King uttered my name like a curse. “It’s been a few months and already you’re back in the fold cutting off your skin, seducing the daughter of the guy who raised you after swearing to protect her and—my favorite—not to touch her and here we are in Dante’s creepy sacrificial room, all waiting for your blood to spill. I’d ask how it feels, but I’m pretty sure you’d say fine like the honorable guy you are when we all know this is shitty. All of it.”
"You’re wrong.” I smirked at him. “Is every boss cursed with a mouth like that or just you?”
His lips twitched. “I miss our fights.”
“My body doesn’t.”
“Don’t be a stranger in the ring. You’re the only one who holds in his tears, it’s such a challenge trying to set them free.”
"How romantic.” I actually smiled.
I respected him. Liked him. Would die for him too.
His blue eyes locked on Raven. “You can leave.”