Chapter 57 Chapter 57 - Clueless Cedric
Still Gianni's POV
He’d been so focused on gathering power in Manhattan, on eliminating the biggest threats and bringing the rest to heel through fear and brutality, that he'd failed to account for the network. The family connections that ran deeper than business, that couldn’t be controlled through violence alone.
Blood ties. The oldest currency in their world.
And he’d given them a perfect reason to unite against him. By leaving that meeting, putting Cedric’s safety over gang politics and showing them exactly where his weakness lay.
What a monumentally, catastrophically stupid fucking mistake.
“So here’s how this works,” Salvatore said, confidence fully restored now, sensing that the tables had started to turn “We walk out of here. All of us. Alive and unharmed. You get to keep your precious boy toy safe in his bed, none the wiser about how close he came to starting a war.”
His giant fake smile came back on his face “And we all forget this unfortunate misunderstanding ever happened. Clean slate. Business as usual.”
“I cannot let you do that,” Gianni grunted, his eyes darting quickly around the room to count The Butcher’s men.
One, Two, Three, Twelve. Twelve against his 30. He could take them.
“Then we all die in this hallway,” Salvatore said simply, gesturing to the standoff around them. “Including several of your own men who are currently bleeding out down there. My people kill you and your guards. Your people kill us. Everyone loses.”
The Serbian added, his accent making the words sound like a death sentence: “And tomorrow morning, every family Il Macellaio is connected to will come down on your territory like the wrath of God. You’re good, Gianni Falcone. Maybe the best this city has seen in generations. But no one can fight us all and win, not even you.”
He paused, letting that sink in, then delivered the killing blow: “Is it worth it? Your pride, your reputation, against all their lives?” He jerked his head toward the bedroom door. “Against his life when they come for revenge?”
Gianni’s hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles cracked audibly. Every battle instinct of his screamed to refuse, to put up a fight, show these bastards what happened when they dared invade his ancestral home and threaten him on his own territory.
But Cedric was still in that room, vulnerable, exposed, and completely defenceless if this turned into a massacre. Not to mention there were women and children who worked for and lived with the family sleeping very close by.
And the mathematics were undeniable, he could probably win this immediate confrontation. His guards were better trained, more loyal, and this was their ground after all.
But the war that would follow… it would consume everything. Everyone, including the one person that Gianni had come home to protect.
The silence stretched as a wire pulled tight, ready to snap.
Finally, Gianni spoke, “Fine.”
The butcher whistled low, “Do my eyes deceive me? Someone write this down, it’ll be in history books someday.” He boomed with loud, grating laughter, “The day the great Don Falcone surrendered in his own home.”
The Serbian nodded calmly, “Excellent choice. Your grandfather would be proud.”
“Get out of my house,” Gianni said flatly. “Take your whore and your mercenaries and get the fuck out before I change my mind.”
“Of course, of course.” Salvatore gestured to his men. “Collect the girl. We’re leaving. Subito.”
The woman in the red dress was pulled roughly to her feet by two guards, still crying, her makeup smeared all over her face. She stumbled as they half-dragged her toward the stairs, her heels catching on the carpet runner.
Gianni almost felt pity for her.
Salvatore followed, moving carefully past Gianni with exaggerated slowness, making a show of keeping his hands visible and non-threatening. When he reached the top of the stairwell, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“This isn’t over, you know,” he said conversationally, almost friendly if you ignored the malice and hatred dripping from every word. “You humiliated me tonight, Gianni. Put your hands on my throat. Made me beg for air in front of my own men. That kind of disrespect… it doesn’t get forgotten in our world.”
“Neither does invading my home,” Gianni replied, his voice cold as winter steel. “Beating my guards, destroying my family home and pointing guns at me in my own hallway, pig.”
“Then I suppose we understand each other perfectly.” Salvatore reached into his coat for a white handkerchief, pressing it to his head to catch the blood trickling down his face. “We’ll see each other again very soon. And next time, perhaps the circumstances will be… different.”
He started down the stairs, then paused one more time, and couldn’t resist one final twist of the knife.
“Oh, and Gianni? Give my regards to your pretty boy.” His laugh echoed up the stairwell, cruel and knowing. “I do hope he was worth it, for your sake. I hope he's worth everything you’re about to lose because of him.”
Then he was gone, his men following in a coordinated retreat down the stairs. Gianni waited, every muscle in his body coiled tight, until he heard the front doors slam with enough force to rattle the hinges. Until the sound of multiple engines starting filtered up from the circular drive below.
Only then did he finally allow himself to move.
His own guards were struggling to their feet now, zip-ties cut by arriving reinforcements, helping each other up and groaning with effort. One of them, Marcel, his face a mess of blood and rapidly swelling tissue, approached him hesitantly, shame and fury mixed together in his expression.
“Boss, I’m so sorry,” Marcel started, his words slightly slurred from what was probably a broken jaw. “We tried to stop them but they had us outnumbered and outgunned, they came in through the east service entrance and Dante was supposed to be watching that…”
“Later,” Gianni interrupted, his voice flat and emotionless. He couldn’t deal with this now.
Neither could he process the security failure nor plan the inevitable response. “Get medical attention for everyone who needs it. Secure all perimeter access points. Make absolutely certain they’ve actually left the grounds and aren’t regrouping for a second attempt.”
“Yes, Boss. Right away.”
“And Marcel?” Gianni’s eyes were hard as stone. “We’ll discuss how they breached security in the morning. In detail.”
Marco paled but nodded. “Understood, Boss.”
Gianni turned away from his men, from the bullet holes and blood and destruction, and pushed through his bedroom door. He closed it behind him with a soft click, pretending for a moment that everything beyond that door did not exist.
The scene that greeted him was exactly as he’d left it, Cedric still bound to the bedposts, still blindfolded, his chest rising and falling with rapid, anxious breaths.
But now there was a different quality to the tension in his body, a fear that went beyond simple sexual frustration.
“Gianni?” Cedric’s voice cracked slightly. “What happened out there? Please, I heard gunshots and shouting and…”
Gianni sighed heavily looking down at his most prized possession, the little brat had no idea what he’d just had to do to protect him.
Not a single clue.