Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

28 | Santo

He did it with a shard of stone that must've chipped off the wall one of the hundred times I threw his body into it. That's how desperate Carlo was to end his own life before we got the chance to.

My first thought is lackadaisical disappointment. That wall has endured a fair share of its own abuse over the years, and I should've known to get it fixed. 

Simo's upset, I can tell, his brows drawn. He's no doubt beating himself up for not having posted a guard to prevent this from happening. We were grasping at straws with this leverage angle, unlikely to get anywhere, but it still doesn't feel good to suffer any kind of loss. 

Then in a rush I remember Nina, but there's no time to say anything because my brother is ushering us urgently inside.

"Luciano is on the line now," Samuel sidles up to us, and I have to switch from Nina mode to business mode.

My head doesn't seem to be cooperating, so I sit Nina in a chair outside Simo's office, her blank faced stare making me uneasy. There's no time to do anything but rush into the office, where the call is already active. I keep an eye on her through the glass door as I listen to Luciano's grating, cancerous voice.

"If I don't have my son delivered to my doorstep wi—"

"Your son's throat is currently inside out, bleeding all over our floors." My deadpanned tone puts an end to Luciano's would-be threat.

Silence.

Then, laughter.

"How did he do it? It was him, wasn't it? I know you brothers would've loved to draw out the kid's suffering."

A fucking headache already starts pounding at my temples, that's how not in the mood I am for Luciano's theatrics. 

"Was there another reason for this call, Luciano?" Simo asks, bored. "We need to go deal with your Underboss's corpse."

It's a subtle jab, but it does the trick. Underboss, not son. The latter means nothing. Luciano's next words come out drenched in spite from the reminder that this still looks like a loss for him. 

"I'm aware you've been in possession of something else of mine."

My eyes are now incinerating the phone. I would reach through it and throttle him in a fucking heartbeat.

"I'd be careful if I were you," I growl, Simo's eyes sharp as he warns me not to lose my temper. "If you hadn't already fucked yourself with your little trail from Vegas to Chicago, you'd have done so with your stunt in Jefferson City." The beaten and murdered woman with the sign of Serpentine on her wrist, a juvenile move. 

"One might call that testing the waters. I've always wanted to kill a Son of Serpentine. I'm glad you received my message, Santo. Oh! And I did another little something," Luciano continues. "I'm not sure you've heard? Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, so I thought I'd bring it to your city. A little celebration amongst friends."

Disgust curls Simo's lip. "You have sealed the fate of your men and yourself, Luciano. I do hope you're ready."

"No, Massimo. I hope you are."

A click signifies Luciano has hung up, his foreboding words lingering in the air.

I'm clenching the edge of Simo's desk tightly, anger pulsing through my veins. But I know Nina is watching, so I try and reign back my temper—except she's not. Where the fuck is she? The chair I sat her in is empty, and my heart rate kicks to an unsteady beat.

Simo has seen the direction of my thoughts from across the room, and his glare pins me in place. It's not time to burst out of here yet. 

"I'm going to start calling in favors," my brother decides. "We're not going to do this alone. We already have Scaloni, but there are  debts I'm owed that I've been waiting to cash in."