The Heir

Chapter 33

Warning: violence

I was wrong. The first two tests were a joke compared to everything else my father has been having me do all day.

I barely passed that paintball test. One of the soldiers is weirdly good at hiding and I almost missed him entirely. It was pure luck that I saw him before he shot me; he should've had his phone on silent.

Then there was the hand to hand test. I'm a good fighter, I can hold my own in nearly every situation. I fought Ryan first. It's a pretty fair fight, the two of us, and we each landed some hard blows to each other. At the end of the day, I'm faster than him and ultimately pinned him to the mat.

But then my dad put me up against Rocco. The best fighter we have.

Much to my fathers disdain, he went easy on me. I could tell by how hard he was hitting and how fast he dodged my own punches. Not to say that he let me win, but he definitely minimized his skills to make it a fair fight. And I won.

There was another test at the shooting range. The first clip was actually easy, precise shots on the target. But then I was blindfolded. I really thought that was it, that was going to be the last test, but I did it. Not as good as when I can see but I hit the target nonetheless.

And now it's time for the final test. I follow my dad through the basement. It's the only place my entire life that I wasn't allowed to go to. I'm not stupid though, I know what goes on down here. I've known for a long time, actually.

My dad swings open one of the metal doors and gestures for me to go inside. The smell of death wafts into the air around me. I stride into the cement room made for torture. Uncle Gio is standing right inside the door and gives a nod of approval. Aunt Rosa is here too, standing against the far wall.

The final test. I guess it makes sense for the two of them to be here too. Gio, my dad's best friend and former consigliere. The man who's basically his brother, my uncle. And Rosa, the only other surviving member of the DiSilva family. The last one to remember the intricacies and traditions of the family.

There's a man tied to a wooden chair in the center of the room. There's a cloth bag over their head, obscuring their identity. He pulls against the ropes in a feeble attempt to break free.

"There comes a time in every Don's rule where he must exterminate a rat," my dad says. "It may be a lowly foot soldier but there is always the risk that those closest to you will turn on you."

I watch him as he approaches the tied man. "Am I here to torture him?"

"No," he says with his back to me. "You're here to execute him."

With that, he tears the bag off of the man's head. My face drops and ice rushes through my veins. The man tied to the chair meets my eye and I swallow hard.

My voice is no more than a breath of air, "Nacho."

"If this is what you want to do," Dad starts, "then there is no room for sentimentality or emotions."

I look at my aunt but her hardened face mirrors that of my father. Just like him, she's evaluating this test.

"Ignacio broke omertà," Uncle Gio says beside me. He holds out his hand, a shiny black gun in his palm. "Kill him."

I can't believe Nacho would go against the family. That he would throw away the life he has here. I know how well he's compensated, I know the way he likes to live his life. And going against the family will shatter all of it. I just don't understand why he'd do this in the first place.

I take the gun from my uncle with shaky hands and the edges of his lips quirk up. I turn the gun over in my hand, stalling.

"What did he do?" I ask quietly.