Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Forty-Two

LUCIANO REACHED 5 MILLION READS SOMEBODY SLAP ME. Thank you all so so so so so so much!!!

Updating is so freaking stressful but exciting. It's like I'm bringing the family all back at once for a mini reunion LMAO

- - - -

"The greatest sacrifice is when you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of someone else."

- - - -

| Liam Luciano |

Stress was indeed a silent killer. My appetite was nowhere to be found, my mood was constantly fluctuating between semi-happiness and annoyance, and I constantly felt like going to a quiet part of the house and ripping all of my so-called beautiful hair out of my scalp. It was also the reason as to why this was the third night I had laid awake in bed, watching the digital numbers in my clock slowly turn, time passing.

It didn't take long for me to realize the mistakes I made and I uttered apology after apology, but Faith could not hear the ones that were directed at her. The night drew on and my eyelids eventually began to give way, memories of Faith still at the forefront of my mind. But before my eyelids closed, I couldn't help but hear the soft piano melody float through the crack in my bedroom door.

The first thing I woke up to the next morning was Rosalie bursting through my room and jumping on the bed, pulling her body on top of mine. Her knees hit a few sensitive places and her fingers grabbed things that should not be grabbed, forcing me to squirm and curse in pain. Before I knew it, her small hands were resting on my shoulders and her forehead was on mine. She was so close that whenever she twisted her head, she appeared to have another set of eyes.

"Liam," She demanded, "Uncle Rico is punching something."

I groaned and shifted underneath her, casually pushing her knee away from my crotch again without further damage being done. Tension was still high, even after Dominic and I's late night chat, even after Rico came in the room, jumped on my bed, and started singing Beyoncé. Only a few days had passed since then, yet nothing truly seemed to have been fixed. Federico was still shooting me random glares and occasionally bumping my shoulder whenever we brushed past each other, Dominic had grown quieter and would often zone out of conversations he typically had a word in. Even Michael was acting weird and that was hard to recognize, but the signs were there.

The only thing that we were agreeing on, was the fact that we had to go back and get Faith.

Rosalie casually slides off the edge of the bed and lands on her feet, her eyes still pleading for me to do something. Gently, I run a hand over my face and roll over on my side to face her. "Is it Dominic's face?"

She scrunches up her face, "No!" Her hands find mine and with her feet planted, she tries to physically pull me out the bed. Her eyes close as an eyebrow on my face lifts and the corner of my lip is tugged upwards as she struggles with all her might; her fifty pound body has no chance against my 200 pound frame. I watch her struggle just for a second before reluctantly obliging and pulling myself off the bed. Her face is red by the time I stand in front of her and she's breathing quite heavily.

"Fine," I give in without much persuasion. I meant to talk to Federico anyways, to apologize for our fight days before; not just for because I felt bad, but also because I was certain I heard him mutter something along the lines of, "Sleep with one eye open tonight, bitch." And I just wanted to give my mind peace, knowing I wouldn't wake up with Rico standing over me, or worse, in my bed with a sharp weapon in his hand.

Rosalie screeched something happily and then shooed me out the room, muttering something about making my bed. The door was slammed behind me just a second later and a smile crossed my face. I was halfway down the hall, a t-shirt still clutched in my hands when I heard a low, faint, yet harsh whisper coming from behind Dominic's door. I swung the shirt over my head and slipped my arms through their appropriate sleeves, before pulling the rest of the fabric down my chest and tugging it, finished. My feet stopped just before his door and my knuckles rapped softly against his door in await of a reply; I didn't get one.

What happened next could be seen from two perspectives; to me, the door opened itself, but to anyone else, it might've looked like I gave it a nudge. I didn't hide the fact that I was there so I took a step in, Dominic's room finally coming into perspective. His desk was lathered in papers that were now beginning to flutter off the desktop, the fan blowing them in every direction. His bed was unmade and his clothes were thrown everywhere, drawers were pulled out and I was pretty sure I spotted a new decoration in the wall; a hole. He was standing near his bed, his back to me and one of his hands was viciously tugging at his hair. A phone was pressed to his ear and his voice was loud and clear.

"You don't understand, you've never understood!" Even from here, I could see his shoulder tense and the muscles in his back constrict. I was surprised the phone didn't shatter in his hand, his knuckles slowly growing white. "I know, I'm tired! I know what I have to—I get tha—" You could tell he was getting frustrated, the person on the other end of the phone wasn't letting him get a word in inch wise. "Listen to me!" I took a step back as he turned to his right, giving me a glimpse of his profile, a glimpse of his facial expression.

A few tense seconds of Dominic trying to speak and the person on the end continuously cutting him off passed and for the first time in my entire lifetime, in our entire friendship, partnership, I saw Dominic Santiago completely lose it. I was certain the vein in his neck would pop when he gripped his phone and threw it. It hit the opposite wall and practically disintegrated; the tiny fragments of what was left of the screen broke off and fell. Dom's hands clenched themselves into a fist as his voice rose and in a low, low tone with his finger pointing accusingly at the phone as if the person was standing there, he shouted, "You are not my mother! You never have been, you never will be, so shut the fuck up!"

As Dominic doubled over, his arms were still shaking and his voice had grown hoarse. He began tugging at his hair and his shoulders began to shake and that was when my own epiphany hit me. I suddenly realized that I wasn't the only one who was falling apart. Faith's relationship with the three of us were completely different, an entirely different dynamic, but she meant something to all of us and when she left and did what she did, it changed everything. Suddenly there were less smiles, less laughter, less teasing. The house was quiet and our conversations were dull and lifeless. Although it didn't appear that she did much, she had made my house a home.

Dominic stood up and turned to his right, his hands brushing his hair back, away from his forehead. His eyebrows were creased, his lips upturned, and his eyes dark, but the second his eyes landed on me, he froze. You could see him swallow hard, as if he already knew I had seen enough. There was no talking or dismissing himself out of this one. He looked to his left, silently acknowledging the mess he had made of his room; the papers on the ground, the bed in disarray, the clothes scattered all around the floor, then lastly, the hole his fist had made out of anger. Finally, his lips parted and he went to make an attempt to speak, but I held up a hand, silencing him.

"You've been acting off this entire week and I'm done trying to ignore it and hope whatever is going on with you gets better," Dom's shoulders drop at my words, "So when you're ready, come find me and we'll talk. Sounds good?"

He clears his throat and nods.

I turned my back to him, my eyes still scanning his desk full of papers as I began to walk out the room, but his hoarse voice calls out after me and the question he poises was one that couldn't have been ignored. "How long did you know?" Emotion washed over his face as I turned around, watching the anger suddenly fade and a wave of sadness wash over his features. He slides a piece of paper out the pockets of his dress pants and shakes it. The senders address was in big, bold letters, indicating our conversations subject.

"I think the real question is, how long have you known?" My eyes fall to the letter in his hands, sent from LabCorp. Dominic eyes me for a long time, before he stops shaking the letter and his own attention is drawn to it.

"For a while; I've known Federico was my brother for a while." Dom drops to his bed, forcing the springs to shudder underneath his weight. Delicately, as if he's holding glass, he rotates the already opened letter in his hands. His eyes lift to mine, "When I was younger, in my teens, I did my own digging. I found the name of my parents, I searched them, I did everything I could to find them and I couldn't, but what I did learn, was that I had a brother." Slowly, he shakes his head. Dominic skims over most of the details but he shakes his hand, a laugh on his lips, "And as life would have it, it's the crazy, stupid, annoying, Olaf-loving psychopath downstairs."

"I had my hunches, I'll admit," I fold my arms across my chest, my hands gripping either bicep, "And it was just little things, little mannerisms and the similar nose, shape of eyes, ears even. I just never took the time to investigate but it looks like you did my work for me."

I wasn't really sure how Dominic was feeling about the news, his face stayed the same and a smile never tried to crawl across his lips. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes.

"He deserves to know," I speak up.

At that, Dominic's eyes shoot open. "No!" He stands and throws the letter to his bed, "No, no, no, no, no." He was definitely adamant about that two letter word. "Not now, no," He shakes his head and it dawned on me just how much the two had grown to actually caring about each other. Their friendship had always been rocky, Rico assuming Dom was a threat and vice-versa, but we all had grown closer due to the task at hand, keeping Faith safe and now, rescuing Faith. "Rico would..." You could tell Dom was struggling for anything to keep me from spilling the beans, "...lose focus. We can't have Rico losing focus right before we do something big." Dom seemed pleased with his lie, "You know this."

Although his idea of keeping the news from Rico was awful in my opinion, his horrifically thought up reason was actually in a way, remotely true. Blowing the lid open now would only damage us more than needed and the time that it would take for Federico to recover from news like that, was time we did not have. I weighed the options and finally gave in with a sigh.

A long, held out, "Fine," rolls off the tip of my tongue, shortly followed by, "But what if you never get a chance to tell him?"

Dominic's eyes fall from my face to his feet, then to the letter that lies harmlessly on the bed. And when his attention falls back on me he speaks gently, as if we were standing on shattered glass and all it took was a breath to send us spiraling downwards to our death.

"Then he'll die never knowing."

- - - -

I left Dominic to tend to his room, one that looked like a cyclone had visited. Nodding a goodbye to him, I headed down the steps in search of a certain tattooed assassin that needed speaking to. In a house as big as this one, it typically takes a good twenty minutes to find someone if you don't know where they are, but Rosalie had given me a pretty good hint. "Uncle Rico is punching something."

I walked towards the back of the house and turned a few corners, my hands gripping the two closed double doors tightly. My eyes closed and I breathed deeply, listening closely to any noise that came from behind the thick doors. The faint sound of thumping, of something behind hit, reached my ears and I flung the doors open without wasting another second.

Treadmills and dumbbells stood off to the right, unoccupied. To the left, in rows, were at least five or so punching bags, all covered in a black leather material. Federico stood before one, his back towards me. I walked into the room, unnoticed – or so I was led to believe. I studied him closely, my arms folded as I approached, watching as he clenched his fist but hit the bag with his forearms. He was focused, his eyes following the punching bag as it swung and continuously, he relayed devastating blow after devastating blow. Federico was drenched in his own sweat, his hair was matted down and perspiration was just rolling down his face, his neck, his back, and his chest.

I came to a stop beside him, just enough feet separated us to keep me from feeling threatened in any shape or form. With one last punch, Federico pulled back and rested a hand on top the bag, forcing it still. His breathing was heavy and labored as he stepped away and turned his back to me, reaching for a towel and a bottle of water on the ground. Instead of drinking it, he dumped half its contents on his head, shook his hair out like a dog that just hopped out a pool, before throwing the towel over his head and drying himself.

"I refuse to believe that was just a workout session." I point to the punching bag casually, "Who's face were you imagining when you stared at that?"

Rico's face becomes clear as he pulls the towel down below his chin, a smirk on his lips. "Yours."

"No offense taken," I shoot back with a forced smile.

His smirk vanishes as he tosses his towel back to the floor and steps back on the blue mat below us, setting his feet and raising his arms, preparing for round two as he faces the bag. When I don't step back or make any motion towards the door, Federico cranes his neck towards me and gives me a look, "Are you just going to stand there and admire my ass?"

"No," I state slowly, "I just wanted to talk."

He stands up, frowning slightly. His initially facial reaction is gone within seconds and recognition crosses his face as he realizes exactly what I came to talk about. Suddenly, his arms drop from their defensive stance and he's shaking his head, "If it's about the other day, don't. We don't need to."

"Yes, we kind of do," He turns his back to me, this time to pick up the water bottle and actually taking a swig from it. He turns to face me, "I deeply apologize for what I said to you." My face begins to get warm and I run a hand through my hair, "I didn't mean what I said, Vincenzo will surely give you the family once he steps down and-"

"He isn't," Federico let up a laugh before shaking his head, "Vince isn't giving me the family once he steps down."

My eyebrows furrow, "You don't know that. He's getting older, just like you, eventually he'll have to give it up. And considering you're the only son he has—" Federico makes a face, forcing me to backtrack, "You are the only son he has, correct?"

He nods.

"It isn't like that though," Rico shakes his head and turns back to the punching bag, as if he's silently asking it to save him from this conversation. "I'm not a possible heir, I never have been and I never will be." He releases a breath, "Could you really see me being a mafia boss?" The corner of his lip pulls upwards, easing the tension greatly. I already had a great image in my mind.

"Honestly?" A laugh comes up from my throat and I chuckle. "No."

"Exactly," He smiles slightly, "If you ask me for a raise on a bad day, I'll probably slit your throat or something."

"Or if your maid brings you water with no ice and you asked for ice."

"Exactly! Off with their heads!" He makes a cutting motion with his hand across his neck and the immediate flashback of Vincenzo doing the same thing came to my mind. We both laugh, before we both grow silent. Federico turns back to the punching bag and offers up a series of ten blows, five from each forearm. He turns back to me after steadying the bag, "But you didn't have to come apologize." His eyes scan over me, "I'm not usually a forgiving person, but I forgave you already."

My eyes squint as I tried to understand, "Why"

"I guess I give a shit about you." He makes a face and shudders.

We both laugh this time as we step close and extend hands, briefly giving each other a pat on the back. Once we pull away and our hands drop, I smirk, "You could've fooled me though, especially with the knife you pulled on me."

The smile that appears on his face only lasts a second. He turns from me and sets his feet, arms raised, "In the end, we hold it down for each other, that's why I forgave you." He punches the bag and steadies it, "Besides, we have to be on the same page if we're going back to get your girl."

It was my turn to smile at that. Your girl. A blush creeps over my face as I take a step forward, forcing Rico to stop. He looks to me, "Look, about Faith—" I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to bring this up; with Rico having announced that he did, indeed, like her, it made the subject even harder to talk about.

"About Faith..." Federico turns from me and I watched as he stalks towards the wall beside us and press his back to it, sliding all the way down to the ground and crossing one ankle over another. He tosses the towel over his damp head and cracks open a second water bottle. Even after Rico tightens the lid to the container, neither of us speak. I was waiting for him, watching as his brow furrowed and the gears behind his hazel eyes turned. "What about her?" He looks up to me and keeps his voice from faltering or wavering out of uncertainty, "We go back and get her, you profess your undenying love for her..."

"Are we going to skip the part where you admitted you like her?"

"It's a pathetic crush, Liam." He shrugs, "Just a crush. Trust me when I say you don't have to worry about me. I won't be here much longer..."

The tone that Federico's voice was suddenly changing to, the light in his eyes, and the teasing grin that was beginning to form was all the warning I needed for what was to come next. He hops to his feet and exposes his chest to me, an eyebrow lifted.

"Besides, if I really wanted to steal your girl, I would've already." Unnecessarily, he steps forward and brushes past me, bumping shoulders at he did so, "I mean, it's a known fact that I got Faith in bed before you did-"

"You were highly intoxicated."

He blinks at me, "Your point?"

The two of us stare at each other, trying to test the waters between us; I wasn't sure if they were calm or choppy. I clear my throat, "You never finished. We go back and get Faith, I profess that I love her and...?"

He nearly chokes the words out, "Things go back to normal."

"What's normal?" I take a step forward, my eyebrows touching. I knew exactly what normal was, I was just hoping that this time, Rico's definition would be different.

"I leave."

I lift an eyebrow, something in me dropping. I didn't like the sound of that, I didn't like it at all.

He noticed the look on my face, "I mean, we'll see; things may change."

Federico shifted his weight to another foot, the feeling in the room was growing uncomfortable and it was growing uncomfortable fast. There were rare moments when Rico and I actually had long, true, heart-to-hearts, but most of the time, our conversations were filled with inappropriate jokes and laughter.

"Hey," I fold my arms over my chest, a smile on my face, "We may not know a lot of things, but what I do know is this," I take a few steps towards him, keeping my chin held high. Once we come face-to-face, I lean forwards and lower my voice, a smirk on my lips, "I whooped your ass the other day."

The same grin crosses Rico's lips and he threw his head back in a laugh, "Hah! That was an unfair fight."

"Unfair?! You pulled a knife on me. I think I win." I pop my collar. Sure, Rico might've moved a tad slower than usual, but I was still praising myself for winning.

"Let me make something very clear," Rico curls a finger towards him, drawing me to take another step towards him. He tilts his head, lifts his chin, and squints his eyes, "If I really had any intent on hurting you, I would've grabbed the spoon."

We both take a step back, the serious moment now broken. Laughter erupts the room, not because what Rico said was funny, but more-so because he was serious; dead-ass serious. I cease the laughter slowly, still chuckling as I try and pull myself together. For the first time in a long time, the weight that seemed to be weighing down my shoulders felt lighter, I didn't feel like I was constantly being suffocated and in a way, I felt relieved. Because although everything wasn't okay now, it would be.

"I'm thinking we may need a re-match, you know, to prove this once and for all," I lift an eyebrow, anticipating Federico's answer. I didn't have to wait very long. Rico has never been and he probably never will be one to turn down an opportunity to fight.

In a matter of seconds we were both standing in the center of the room, a mat below us for comfort. My feet sunk into the plush, padded cushion below me as I walked slowly in a counter-clockwise direction, following Federico as he walked in the same direction. I had stripped down to just the sweatpants I had worn to bed, while across the way, Federico wore nothing but shorts. It wasn't until I actually started closely examining my opponent did I realize the disadvantages I faced.

First things first, Federico was trained for this; hand-in-hand combat, weaponry, you name it, he could more than likely do it. He knew what to look for in your fighting style, he knew to follow patterns, to expose a weak spot that he may see. It made fighting him hard, knowing you had to switch it up, or you'd be the one lying on the floor, tapping out like a fool. We circled around again, still sizing each other up. Federico and I were practically the same height, but a few muscles in his chest were more defined and it wasn't until he flexed that I noticed just how large his biceps actually were.

I decided to plan my way of attack. Rico was quick, making the idea of going to his upper body first a bad one; I went low. Closing the gap between us by an arm's length, I swung my leg out in hopes of tripping him up. He jumped, landed on his feet, and smiled, his arms now raised in a defensive manner.

Yep, this was going to be harder than I thought. My mind decided to take this moment to replay the visual of Federico beating the punching bag to death, his arms had moved so fast they blurred and I winced at the imagery.

"Oh, whose bright idea was this!" I turn around at the sound of the voice, watching as Dominic strode in, a look of curiosity on his face. His eyes wander over my shoulder to look at my opponent, "Oh, Liam, that was a bad ide—"

I didn't hear the rest of his sentence. Rico's arm looped itself around my neck, pressing just hard enough to make breathing difficult. My back pressed against his chest and my hands clasped around his tattooed forearm, my lower body attempted to maneuver my way out of this one.

"Rule number one," Rico's voice hit my ear, a chuckle slipping past his lips, "Never turn your back on me."

I had to give credit where credit was due, Rico knew exactly what he was doing. Balancing my weight on his lower body, he lifted me just high enough off the ground that my feet grazed the surface below, keeping me from using my feet to gain any advantage to escape out of his hold. I tried moving my head, hoping in some way, I could slip out and reverse positions, but it was no use. With breathing becoming far more difficult by the moment, I relied on the last thing I knew. Clenching my fist, I rammed my elbow back into his chest and to my dismay, his grip loosened.

It wasn't a lot, but enough that I could gasp and regain all the air that I had lost. Again, I wound up, and jammed my elbow into Rico's chest. A breath and a grunt escaped him and by the third elbow, he released me and stumbled back, a hand shooting to his rib area. He was doubled over for just a second, but a second was all I needed; I closed the distance between us, wrapped my own arm around Federico's neck, and threw him to the ground.

His back hit the mat with a thud and he cursed, still feeling the pain that Peter had caused. His hands fell at his side and his breathing was labored, his eyes gently falling closed. I stayed alert, yet, unsure as to whether we needed to stop and I needed to help him. Rico hadn't tapped out, his fingers drumming against the mattress as his chest moved up and down. I gave him a moment to recover.

I used the moment to put my hands on my waist and catch a breath, but when Rico didn't open his eyes or move to continue the fight, worry grew in my heart. I took a step forward, Rico's legs resting between mine as I stood over him. I leaned forward just a little and patted his chest, "You ready to tap out, Buddy?"

I should've known.

I honestly should've fucking known, but I didn't.

Federico's eyes shot open and the smile appeared on his face and in those three seconds, I looked like the Mr. Krab's meme that was surfacing all over the internet.

I was halfway between uttering the 's' word when Rico's hand snatched up, grabbed my elbow and yanked me down. The move was quick, certainly practiced, and perfected. He rolled out the way just before my head practically smacked against the mat and before I knew it, he was back on top, his arm around my neck and his grip more lethal now than ever.

Federico spun me around, now forcing me to face the door as he continued to tighten his grip, just waiting for my palm to smack against the mat and end this. My teeth gritted together and breathing became hard, forcing my breaths to be shallow. I could see Dominic standing off to the side, his arms folded, eyes on us. I started coughing, but when I started seeing stars, I knew I would have to tap out eventually. With the last remaining energy I had, I clawed at Federico's forearm with my non-existent finger nails, but it was no use.

And just before I made the final decision of slapping the mat, a deep voice came from the doorway. I didn't recognize the voice right off the bat, but Rico did. It was deep, its tone nothing special, but what odd was the thick Italian accent that coated their words, followed up by another accent, one much more subtle.

"You must do better than that if you plan on beating my protégé."

Air swarmed into my lungs as Federico's arm was immediately released and I fell forward, my hands just barely breaking my fall. My cheek rested against the cool mat and my eyes closed. Silence surrounded me and Rico's presence was gone, Dominic was silent, and when I opened my eyes, I was staring at Jordan's so shiny I could practically see my reflection. My attention was forced upwards, passed the khaki shorts, passed the exposed, hairless chest, passed the beard that covered his chin and upper lip, all the way up to a pair of dark brown eyes; the same eyes that stared down at me.

I groaned and dropped my head and eyes back to the ground, I focused on my breathing rather than the powerful figure that stood above me, eyeing me with a bored expression. I'm not sure whether I dragged myself up and stumbled off the mat, or if Dominic had come over for assistance, but either way, I staggered away from Federico and stood up straight, turning just enough to eye the man that had been standing over me.

Vincenzo De Santis hadn't changed and he probably never would. He was rich, filthy rich, but he didn't let that show through his way of dress. I'm positive he could have a suit custom made by a foreign designer, but he didn't; instead, he wore shorts that fell just below his knees, shoes that you could buy at the nearest Nike store, and an un-buttoned black dress shirt. A necklace hung around his neck, its engraving wasn't possible to read from over here. He was tall, broad, and he broke every single stereotype of getting older. There was no beer-belly, no gut, he wasn't hunching over, and I couldn't have spotted a grey hair even with a magnifying glass.

I think Rico was just as shocked as Dominic and I at the presence of the man who rightfully adopted him. They stared at each other for a few tension filled minutes before Vincent turned to me.

"The only way to beat Federico is to find his weakness."

I coughed a bit, "And if he doesn't have one?"

Vincenzo turns back to his son, "He has one."

Just by his tone, you could hear him challenging his son to a fight, but instead of taking off his shirt which would be the norm, he began to button it. Slowly, from the bottom to the top, he then placed a kiss to the necklace that dangled from his neck and he gently stuck it inside his shirt. He stepped forward, now on the mat, and he pulled a black bandana from his pocket. His hair was much like Dominic's, it was curly, but it fell flatter on Vincent's head. The longer strands could screw with his vision, explaining as to why he fit the bandana around his head and pushed his hair upward off his forehead, away from his ears.

A laugh escapes Rico as he backs up, but not off the mat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Vincenzo's reply is muffled, "Elaborate."

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Like Rico and I had done, the two start marching in a circling, calculating each other's steps, watching their hands, their faces, and their feet, making sure they don't pull a quick move to get an advantage. From a spectator's point of view, the two only seemed to be chatting.

"I came to check on my son." Vincent's reply was innocent enough, but even from here, you could tell Rico didn't buy it. His scoff was loud enough for Dom and I to hear. I felt Dominic nudge me, his eyes wide as he mouths something along the lines of, "That's Rico's father?"

"Stop," Rico laughs and clenches his fists, raising them as he takes a defensive stance. Vincenzo continues to casually walk in the circle. "Stop with the bullshit. We both know you didn't fly all the way down from Detroit to see me. So why don't you just tell us all why you're really here?"

Rico's question flew right over Vincenzo's head. His face scrunches up in mock hurt, "Why do you not believe I care about you?"

"See," Rico points at Dominic and I, making his point, "He does this all the time, he tries to control the conversation by flipping everything on you," He shakes his head at that point, glares at his father, and looks back to us, "That is Vincenzo De Santis' weakness. You heard it from me first."

Vincenzo was eyeing Federico curiously, before slowly nodding and addressing us. "Federico is right. I have control issues." He tears his gaze from Rico before looking to us, "My childhood is not one I want to remember, but I felt as though I lost control of my life and those were the worst years of my entire existence. It's mental, it's all mental, but I get anxiety if I'm not driving, if I'm not controlling a conversation. Hell, I don't even like my dick being sucked."

"-Because he isn't in control," Rico pats Vincent's back, shooting him one of the coldest looks I had ever seen.

"That sounds like a deep psychological issue," Dom mutters from beside me.

Vincenzo makes a face, "It is, Mr. Santiago."

Federico scoffs again, even louder this time, "Or because the only people after his dick are in the nursing home."

Vincenzo fake laughs, forcing true smiles from both Dominic and I. The mimicking, teasing, and every odd facial expression Vincent made in his short time here, reminded me of Rico. "Funny, Federico. Then explain to me why I was just down in Mexico clapping it up with Latinas." Rico moves to make a comment, but Vince holds up a finger, "And they weren't clapping their hands."

Federico stuttered with words, but not with anything else. He swung the first punch, it only missed because Vincenzo ducked and stepped back, his eyebrows raised. The dynamic of this fight was definitely different from ours; Rico actually seemed intent on hurting Vincenzo, whereas our fight was far more on the "practice" side of things. Dominic and I went from spectators to refs halfway through, certain that one of them would hurt the other.

Vincent didn't do bad at all, in fact, he was more reserved, blocking Federico's punches, lunges, and attempted kicks. He hardly went on the attack himself, mostly defending himself from the rapid amount of punches Federico could lash out in a matter of seconds. It was almost too beautiful to watch if I had to admit it; their feet danced around the mat in a rhythm, their punches were thrown when you least expected it and the fight was even.

The fight for Federico, however, was lost about fifteen minutes in when Vincenzo exposed Federico's weakness to the entire world. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, his eyebrows were creased together and he was exerting far too much energy. Vincenzo on the other hand had yet to break a sweat, having controlled the fight the entire time, he had Rico right where he wanted him. But what I did take notice of, was the fact that their lips were moving as they shot quiet jabs at each other; Vincenzo's jabs at Rico were far more effecter because whenever Vince said something, Rico reacted in a rush of anger.

Anger was Federico's weakness.

It all unfolded right before our eyes. Anger made him sloppy and he swung a punch he shouldn't have, which allowed Vincenzo to yank him by his arm, throw him up against the wall, and wrap a hand around his neck. Dominic and I were already out of our seats in preparation of saving Rico in some way. I could completely understand how he was feeling right now; lack of oxygen, the feeling of death slowly approaching, yeah, it wasn't a walk in the park.

Time slowed and just when we were ready to close in and pull Vince off his son, Federico's palm slapped against the wall multiple times and he was released. Rico fell to the door, his hand shooting up to his neck as he allowed himself to breathe. His face was red and he was heaving as Vincenzo turned around, a dark look in his eyes.

"Anger can be a motivator, but it can also tear you apart if you let it," Vincenzo quickly unbuttons his shirt, loosening it as it fits far more comfortably on his shoulders. He turns his head to the left, eyeing all three of us out of his peripheral vision. "Anger is Federico's weakness, and if he doesn't find a way to control it, it'll kill him."

- - - -

Vincenzo De Santis was a very interesting character. We both sat on a lengthy couch in the living room, both on opposite sides. He has his feet extended on my coffee table, his ankles crossed. His eyes gave no tell-tale signs as to answering the question I posed just seconds before. His large hands were pressed together, his fingers tapping against each other as his attention focused elsewhere, unaware of my gaze. I took note of the various amounts of tattoos that decorated his arms. Letters were etched just below his knuckles in his left hand, but before I could read it, he pulled it away.

I posed another question, this one not as invasive as the previous. "How many tattoos do you have?"

"Far too many to count," He answers this one quickly, his expression didn't give away how he was feeling, "Both arms are done," He pulls his feet back down to the ground as he leans forward and rubs a hand down the back of his neck, "I have one on my back," He leans back, regaining the position he had. Casually he points to his hand, "And my hand."

"You plan on getting more?"

"Certainly."

We both lean back, waiting for either to continue. I was still being patient, waiting for Vincenzo to answer my initial question of, "What are you really doing here, Vincenzo?"

I didn't see a reason as to why he wouldn't answer me. We were close, occasionally chatting on skype and telephone when neither of us were swamped in our work. Those were very rare occasions, however. Yet, now, was a perfect time to talk. Dominic had gone somewhere with Rosalie and Michael, while Federico had dismissed himself to take a shower and obviously, cool down.

I leaned forward, watching closely as Vincent took a sip of water from the glass that was presented before him. His tongue ran over his upper lip and he looked deep in thought and that was when I noticed something.

"You had a tongue ring."

"I did," Vincent chalks up a weak smile before setting his glass down, "I had it for a while, but I took it out recently." He gives me a side glance before leaning back and sighing deeply, "The ladies loved it," For show, he runs his tongue over his lips again, laughing deeply,

I roll my eyes, "I wonder why."

It was a rhetorical statement and I wasn't exactly stating it to get an answer, but I was speaking to a De Santis, so I should've known better. "They like when I flick their clìt with it." I sank deeper into the couch, "I had her screaming my name for a good ten minutes."

The resemblance between Vincenzo and Federico was absolutely jaw-dropping. If you ever wished for two Rico's, your wish came true.

"You notice a lot, I'm impressed," Vincent grabs his cup this time and pulls it to his lips, leaning back and relaxing while he did so. You could tell he was dying to say more, but urged me to speak up despite it.

"I've been in this business since I was 18, I notice everything."

His lips curl into a smile and it wasn't one that was shared, in fact, I found myself frowning at the sight of his pearly whites. "So I take it you notice that the reason I've dodged your question is because we have an eavesdropper?"

I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, especially when I sat up a little straighter, getting a good look over Vince's shoulder. What was more impressive was that he had his back towards the entrance. Yet, just like he said, I could the tiny had that was holding on to the framed opening of the living room. If you listened close enough, you could hear slight, high-pitched giggling. I had a "really" look on my face and I felt like rolling my eyes when I glanced down at Vincenzo, watching him watch me from his seat. He took an obnoxiously loud sip from his cup, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, emphasizing the dimples on the left side of his face.

I stood next, put my hands on my waist, and sighed loudly. "Rosalie, get in here right now." There was a pause in the giggling, "Don't make me say your name again. Rosa—"

She was standing in the doorway not even a second later, a suspicious grin on her face. A blush crept to her cheeks as she swung her tiny arms behind her back and smiled at me. I gave her the look and she immediately started spilling her guts.

"I heard Uncle Rico's daddy was here! I had to come see him!"

Rosie hadn't captured Vincent's attention. His head was bowed, a hand entangled in his hair as his eyes scanned over the cellphone in his hand. He missed the slight step back and slight look of fear that crossed Rosie's eyes when her eyes rolled down ink that coated his arms. When Vincenzo did look up, Rosalie practically slammed her back against the nearest wall. I could see where his gaze would be intimidating, maybe even scary to someone younger.

She seemed very hesitant at first, but slowly, she approached him. She held her own hands behind her back as she stepped towards him, finally coming within arm's reach of Mr. De Santis. The two held a decent amount of eye contact before Rosalie extended her right hand. But instead of reaching for the handshake, she forced the back of her hand upwards. Vincent looked up to me, a wide smile on his lips.

"You taught her well," He speaks to me.

"She got her attitude from her mother," I respond with a shrug.

With a deep chuckle, he brings her small hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Her hand doesn't linger in his for very long. She snatches it back, smiling slightly. "Are you Rico's daddy?"

"I'm his dad, yes."

I could tell this was going to turn into a lengthy interview when Rosie inhaled deeply and folded her hands across her chest, preparing to challenge a man far more powerful than she. "What's your name?"

"I have a few."

She squints, "What's your favorite?"

"You can call me Mr. De Santis."

"You don't have a first name?"

A muscle in his jaw ticks and I knew the reason why. As petty and pitiful as it might seem, Vincenzo had let a seven year old girl expose his weakness. He lost control of the conversation.

"It's Vincenzo."

"I like your name."

"I like yours," He responds. "Rosalie, right?"

"Rosalie or Rosie," She nods in confirmation. "But...sh..." Rosie puts a finger to her lips as she leans forward, her hands resting on Vincent's knees. Whatever uncertainty she had about him was slowly diminishing the longer they talked and the wider her smile grew. "Don't say the name Rose in front Uncle Dom. He loved a girl named Rose and she died. He's still sad."

Vincenzo makes a face, forcing me to stifle the laughter coming out my mouth. He didn't seem very interested.

Rosalie spoke again, but this time, she did something she hadn't done before; she caught both of our attentions. "Maybe Rose and my mom can be friends now that they're together." She glances over her shoulder at me and the look she gave me only broke my heart more, "Do you think mom and the lady Dominic loved will be friends?"

"What happened to your mom?" Vincenzo reaches out, tugging at Rosalie's arm, forcing her to look back at him. One eyebrow dipped, forcing the other to follow in the form of a frown.

"Peter hurt her."

He looks up over her shoulder at me as I mouth, "Dead."

"Well then," Vincent tilts his head, a devious smile returning to his mouth, "It looks like we need to make sure Peter doesn't hurt any more people."

Rosalie nods aggressively. "Are you going to make sure?"

"Your brother will," He glances at me quickly before returning his gaze to Rosalie. "This is his fight, not mine."

Rosie steps back and looks to me, positioning her body just enough that she can glance at both of us quickly. "But what if Peter hurts Liam just like he hurt my mom?"

She had Vincent and I there. There was no denying it that this was my fight. It had been mine all along, one I had been trying to run away from, but one I would eventually have to face. I roll my head towards Vince, eyebrow raised as I awaited a quick, yet witty and wisdom filled response. I waited and waited and the longer the silence drew out, the more I realized just how much of a possibility that actually was. Not only was it possible for Peter to hurt me, but also anyone and everyone that would come when we went back for her.

Her question would forever go unanswered, because Federico's immediate presence cut our previous conversation short. He walked into the doorway slowly, his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans. His hair was damp and a thin layer of water from his shower still sticking to him. Vincenzo pushed himself up and back onto his seat as Rosie turned to her "uncle" and completely forgot about us.

She squealed out of happiness, proving to both Vincenzo and I just how much she loved her uncle Rico. Rosalie scatters over to him, throwing her arms around his thighs and bringing him close, pressing her cheek against the denim material. I had to stifle a laugh when I saw Rico cringe, slowly placing a hand on her head in an attempt to peel her cheek off his thigh.

"Rosalie," Michael and Dominic appear at the entrance. Michael steps forward, his hand extended towards the child. "Let's leave them to talk," He shoots a glance at Rico, at Dominic, and lastly at me and I was certain he was wondering as to why everyone was staring at the man on the couch. They left not even a second later, Rosie having no trouble running off with what was her mother's husband.

The four of us were left in silence and awkwardness. Dominic was still where Michael had left him, a hand on his chin, the gears behind his eyes churning as his attention laid focused on Vincenzo. Federico, too, had his eyes on the man that rightfully adopted him, watching closely as Vincent leaned back on the plush sofa, casually throwing an arm over the back of it. My own thumb stroked my chin as the questions in my mind circulated.

After another sip of water, Vincent cleared his throat and stood. He was no taller than any of us, but the invisible chip on his shoulder made him appear taller and more intimidating than any of us. "Federico, to answer your question, I came to Los Angeles for multiple reasons, but one was to see you." Rico's eyebrows connected before he dropped his head, unable to hold eye-contact with his father. Vincenzo then turns to me, "Liam, to answer your question, I came because your father called me."

I made a face, "Why the hell would Michael call you?"

He holds up a hand to me and turns to Dominic, who was standing silently near the wall. Eyeing him up and down twice, Vincenzo takes a step forward, his hand extended. "Mr. Santiago, It's a pleasure to finally properly introduce myself."

"Mr. De Santis," Dominic nods back in respect, "Likewise, but if I could be so willing to ask, how do you know my name?"

A smile crosses Vincenzo's face, "Always stay one step ahead of your competition and you'll never fall behind."

He turns from Dom and overlooks Federico and I. Dominic eases himself away from the wall and rounds the room, joining Rico and I on our side. Vincent's gaze was chilling; he looked at you for only a second, but it sent a wave effect of chills running down your arm.

"Federico." His stated Rico's name as if it were a command and Rico responded as if it was one. Dropping to his sofa, Rico stepped forward and obeyed Vincent's silent wishes. He approached his father with no hastiness and his head bowed. "Kneel," was Vincenzo's second wish.

A smile creeped across Rico's face and I internally rolled my eyes knowing just what was to come. "If you wanted your dick sucked, Vin, you could've just asked—"

All Vincenzo did was give him a look. There was no smile, no light in his eyes, no nothing. He simply tilted his chin upwards and glared at Federico out the slits in his eyes and the younger man quieted down within seconds.

Without another order, Rico turned around, his back now towards Vincent, and kneeled. I knew what was coming next, but as Vincenzo scooted forward, his eyes lifted to me. "Let me get this straight, you sent Mr. Santiago and my boy here into a trap?"

I thought about it briefly, "Yes, but Manuel Rodriguez is a trusted dealer. I never would've anticipated him working or being friends with Peter Corinelli." I let out a breath, "What happened to Dominic and Rico was completely my fault and I take all the blame, responsibility and I cannot express to you how—"

Vincent's eyes tear away from me and land on Dominic, "What happened?"

Instead of returning his stare, both Dominic and I's gazes fall to Federico, who kneels on the floor below us. His gaze had, too, fallen to the floor and his face was red, his shoulders tense and his jaw locked tight. Soon, everyone's attention solely resided to the man that was kneeling on the floor, his arms behind his back. It was silent, the air growing thicker by the second, but we waited.

When Rico breathed in, it was loud and labored, his breath shaky even. "That bitch was there, Camilla." I took a step closer, this being the first time I was enlightened on the details of that night. "She came around a corner, started talking shit to Dom. Then her dad, Mr. Rodriguez came in, shortly followed by Peter." There was a long, extensive pause. "I—I don't really remember..."

"Try," Vincent ordered.

It was obvious Federico didn't want to and it showed in the uncertainty of his voice. He tried to speak a few times after that, but failed miserably. His voice would crack and he would try again, but after the third try he gave up. The shaking of his shoulders started out slowly and when a hand went to his face to wipe at his tears, we realized he was crying.

Dominic looked to me, I looked to Dominic, and Vincenzo stared at his sons back without a word.

In a form of comfort, Vincenzo leaned forward and rested a palm to Federico's back. It wasn't welcomed. Rico stood to his feet, his glistening cheeks finally coming to light for the first time. The hurt, the anguish, the pain, it was all there. His hazel eyes were glassy and his cheeks were glistening with tears that had run down in face in crooked lines.

"I can't kill Peter," He spoke in a hushed tone, speaking quickly as if he was positive the tears would choke him up, "There are so many things that he deserves to be done to him but I can't," Rico shook his head and stepped to the side, motioning to Vincent, "At this point, he's right. If I try and kill Peter someone else will get hurt, if it isn't me." Federico turns back to me, "So you do it. You kill Peter, only if you promise to leave Camilla and her father to me."

"—to us," Vincenzo stands at that, smoothly correcting Rico.

They made eye contact and I swore I saw a hint of a smile that was shared between the both of them.

Federico dipped out the room a second later, no goodbye or dismissal given. Vincent watched him leave before turning back to Dominic and I, his expression stern. "Peter is the reason I'm here, Liam. I'm here because he not only fucked with Rico, but he fucked with you—" Vincent was momentarily cut off as Michael waltzed into the room, his arms folded, "—You may not know this," He turns back to me, "But the Luciano's have always been good to me."

Michael smiles as he approaches and the two extend their hands to each other in a firm, respectful handshake. "We had to be," Looping an arm around Vincenzo's shoulders, Michael turns to us. "Vincenzo De Santis was Rico before Rico was even Rico."

Vincent smiled at that, "You exaggerate, Michael."

If you stared closely, you could see just a hint of Vincent's cheeks turn pink at the truth. He was trying to excessively downplay Michael's statement, but failed.

"You must've retired early?" I let a second pass before asking, "Why?"

There was a look that flashed through his eyes that lasted mere seconds; if you had blinked, you would've missed it. Vincenzo swallowed hard and his index finger tapped impatiently against his thigh. When he spoke again, I made sure to put a check mark on that question and ask him again later when the time was right.

"What we need to focus on is the important matter at hand," He bypasses my question with a statement of his own, "Peter Corinelli."

"We're working on it," I nod.

"Really?" Vincenzo takes a step away from Michael and looks to my feet, his eyes roaming all the way up to my head in a dramatic fashion, "Because last thing I heard, you were acting like a pussy ass bitch and let your girl do a man's job."

My eyes shot over to Michael, who pretended to look shocked. To add to the affect, he slapped a palm over his lips and let his eyes widen. I looked back to Vince, who was still smiling slyly at me.

I wanted to reply back with a sarcastic response of my own, but you couldn't really do that when someone was spitting truthful facts at you. My pride wavered but it didn't fall.

"Peter Corinelli's reasons for coming after my family have changed over the span of a few weeks. It went from chasing the money Faith supposedly had, to chasing me." My eyes float to Dominic, who nods in agreement, then to Vince and Michael as they stand there, waiting for me to continue. I catch glimpse of Federico slipping back into the room, a rolled up paper in his hands. "It's no secret that I've topped the Corinelli family, just like I topped the Costello's and Peter is jealous."

"—jealous that a twenty-eight year old is more successful than he," Vincenzo nods.

"Exactly. And it's no secret that I care about Faith, it can't be anymore anyways."

Federico puckers his lips from behind his father. When the others notice that my gaze had quickly fallen to a distraction behind them, they shoot glances over their shoulders. Federico's expression changes to one with pursed lips and connected eyebrows in milliseconds. I smirk as Vincent, Michael, and Dominic turn back to me, waiting for me to continue, and that's when Rico shoots me one last wink.

He was such an ass.

Vincenzo throws his arms across his chest and finishes my explanation, "Peter starts attacking you personally, Faith feels guilty and gives herself in. Peter, satisfied for the moment, stops attacking you, forces all of his attention to Faith, in which you take the opportunity to strike." He shrugs, "I get it. What you need to start doing is planning the assault—"

Rico's voice bellows out deeply from behind Vincent, "It's done." Lifting up the large, yet folded pieces of paper, he shakes them. It takes him seconds to unroll the sheet and slap it down on the coffee table, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. We gathered around the table, hovering over it.

While the majority of us bent over it, eyeing the hand drawn layout of Peter's home, drawn by Rico, we listened to the narrative voice that came from the artist himself. "Peter Corinelli's home is easily accessible. The majority of his protection is in his home during daytime hours, at night, his home is almost a joke to break into. At night, on estimate, he has about eighteen, maybe twenty guards now that Faith is there, on guard. I'm thinking eight guards on the first floor, and ten located wherever Faith is."

"—Possibly upstairs," I add quietly.

"—or in the basement," Dominic, who had remained quiet for a majority of the evening, spoke up finally. The look in his eyes remained distant, even as he glanced up, judging the response to his statement.

"Faith isn't in the basement," Vincenzo and Michael spoke word for word. They gave each other a look and Vince finished, "He doesn't want her dead, scared, but not dead. She's upstairs, in a bedroom."

"But," Again, it was Dom, "Until that's confirmed I believe it's best we try both. If we go upstairs and she's downstairs, we've wasted a valuable amount of time."

"It's just twenty guards," Michael shrugs, "Federico could accidently shoot all of them."

"My finger did slip," Rico defends.

Michael stands up a little straighter at that, "Twice?"

"You're lucky I didn't let a bullet slip into your temple—"

Vincenzo takes a step back, blocking the wide open gap that simply needed to be closed between the two who had begun to argue. Vincent doesn't turn to Michael, but more-so to his son. It was obvious that Federico knew the distinct looks Vincenzo gave him, because once again, his shoulders fell and the anger vanished from his features.

Rico turns back to us, "Twenty guards may not be a lot, but that's where the catch comes in." He breathes deeply, "The majority of Peter's so-called family live about a mile down the street from him. If his security alarm is activated, the call goes straight to that house, meaning we'd have about two minutes to get out of there before hundreds of men come running to his aid." Silence envelops the room as Federico speaks the obvious, "I may be good, but I can't kill two hundred men at the same time."

He glances around the room again as the reality sinks in. He continues, "I've disabled hundreds of alarms in my day and I know I can disable this one, at least with the help of Timothy or Will." Rico rubs his hands together, "The problem being, once the alarm is activated, we have two to shut it off before the cry for help is sent."

I can feel every eye on me.

"So," A hand goes to my chin as I eye the room, "You're telling me our lives depend on two minutes?"

"Yes."

Dominic steps up, "So you're telling me our lives depend on you?"

Federico smiles at that, "Yep."

Dominic turns to me instantly, "Liam, no, let me disable it. You know Rico would let the timer run all the way to one second just to make us piss our pants."

When I looked to Federico, he was smiling slyly. There was no denying that and we both knew it.

There was plenty of silence that passed before I spoke up again. "Timothy and William will be stationed outside the home, our command center. Federico will disable the security, but you-" I point to Dom, "—you will go with him. You and Federico will clear the first floor and the basement." Leaning over, I grab my father's bicep and pull him close, "My eyes are not leaving this bastard, so he stays with me." I turn to him, "We go upstairs for Faith."

"I think the only question that resides now is, we go in loud or quiet?" That was Dominic.

"Quiet," The De Santis men answered.

"What about you?"

The foreign voice came from the entrance. Timothy and Will stood there, peering nervously from the foyer. Their eyes were locked onto Vincenzo's frightening stature. It was clear they had been listening in, heard most of the conversation, and now they were asking a question of their own; one I had been interested in asking myself.

By this time, Michael, Dominic, Federico, William, Timothy, and I were standing on one side of the room, Vincenzo on the other. It was a good question, no doubt. I stepped forward a bit, leaving the others in the back as I motioned towards him.

"We could use you," I smile softly, "We'd never have enough help. Besides, Peter came at Rico, meaning he came at you. If you want to be involved, you can be."

Dom stepped forward with me, standing by my side, right where I trusted he would be. "If you're as good as Michael claims you are, we could use you."

A smile forms and a laugh erupts from his throat. He shuffles his feet for just a second before sliding his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "I appreciate your invitations, Luciano and of course, you as well Mr. Santiago, but I retired for a reason." He turns to the doorway, "I'm glad you all have it figured out. Now you go, kill that bastard, send me a video so I can get off to it, and tell me the location of his grave so I shit down his neck and cum on his tombstone."

"Sounds like a plan," I laugh and step forward, followed by everyone behind me. His exit was coming and goodbyes would soon be said. "You have a safe trip back to Detroit."

I proceeded to follow him towards the door. Dominic and the others fell back, staying in the living room to discuss the plan further. Their chatter was loud and floated out into the foyer as I escorted Vincenzo towards the door. I pulled it open as he stepped forward, but before stepping out the house he turned to me.

He appeared as though he wanted to say more than he really did. "Good luck," was all he said before heading out the door, towards the flashy sports car that lay waiting in my driveway.

By the time I re-entered the living room, the chatter had grown. Rosalie was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, her mouth closed. Her eyes were locked on the taller, masculine figures that stood around her, talking loudly. They all were discussing tactics, throwing in their own little pieces of advice. Excitement was in the air, adrenaline was flowing, and nerves were high. They grew aware of my presence and quieted down.

Federico was in the background, bouncing on his toes. Michael was swaying from side to side and Dominic had his hands folded, his eyes on me, but his thoughts had him somewhere else. Timothy and William were leaning towards each other, whispering loudly about something computer related. I saw Rosie slip off the couch and squirm between the men. She nestled her head against Rico's thigh as he placed a hand on her head, this time, keeping her close. It made me smile, it made me smile a lot; but it also made me worry even more about what I knew was going to happen.

Just because five men stood before me now, didn't mean five would be standing here once it was all over.

Four men would enter that house, but that didn't mean four would leave it.

My heart was pounding in my chest and my shirt felt tight. That was the reason I reached up and pulled at my collar. My finger brushed against the cool medal that was securely wrapped around my neck and it was a perfect reminder as to why we were going and what we were going for.

Fiducia.

I smiled.

"It goes down tonight."

- - - -

a/n: I once got a message from someone saying "they don't even act like they're in the mafia, they act like preschoolers." It was clear they didn't read very far into the story. What I've prided myself on is the relationship between the men. You always see and know the Mafia as being violent, unforgiving, and gruesome and in some ways, I've tried to show my readers that. But I think what is often lacked, is the family aspect of it. Family is important and I hope I've been able to show that through the different relationships that each of these characters posses with one another.

Comments on the chapter?

Dominic's decision to NOT tell Federico?

The ending to Luciano is already planned, but I'm curious as to what YOU think is going to happen. Predictions?

- start mentally preparing yourself for the climax now 'cause I don't need half of ya'll like "OMG I NEED A BREAK FROM THIS BOOK" right when shit is getting good LMFAO. So that's your homework till the next update, begin preparing for the upcoming chapters. –