Chapter 5 How It All Began
LORENZO
A Few Weeks Ago
Standing stoic amidst the men and women at the funeral, my jaw ticks as I listen to the minister reading Angelo's eulogy. To my right is Fabio, my trusted enforcer.
To my left is Angelo's oldest son. Beside him is his mother, Angelo's widow, crying softly; at her side are their two other sons.
Angelo's three sons are between ten and fourteen, and not one of them is crying.
He'd taught them well, I thought, though it seems cruel. This is the world they live in.
I know from experience that they should learn early rather than late. This world is not for the weak-hearted; in our world, men do not cry. I cannot, for the life of me, remember when I last cried. Probably on the day, my madre hung herself. I hadn't when my Padre died.
I remember the day he died; I remember looking at his dead body and feeling nothing, only deep-seated hate and regret that I wasn't the one who had ended him. I recall my Nonna weeping; I remember her telling me when she found me staring at the window of my room, that it was okay to cry if I wanted.
That it would be our little secret, I had told her I was okay and didn't want to cry.
As such, I couldn't tell her what was in my heart, but as young as I was, had she been anyone else, I would have told her that I would rather gouge my eyes out than cry over that fucking bastard.
I made the cross sign over my chest as the minister finally finished reading the eulogy, and I moved forward to the front and joined the other five pallbearers.
As the Capo, it's not necessary for me to do this. Though unexpected, it's still considered a great honor bestowed by the Capo on a loyal soldier.
To me, it has another meaning; it was a promise to Angelo that he should be at peace. That as I have carried his body on my shoulder to escort him to his final resting place, so shall I take the burden of caring for his family on my shoulder.
There is nothing wrong with respecting loyal men who would kill and die for you. Because if you don't respect them, then you don't deserve to be their leader.
My grandfather underestimated me, and that was his mistake.
Respecting my men, however, didn't mean they didn't fear me. They've seen what I do to my enemies and people who betray me.
As a leader, I don't repay loyalty with betrayal and death. I repay loyalty with loyalty and respect.
And I will enjoy it greatly. It's all a matter of knowing how to balance it all. Respect then fear.
I finally gave the reins to another and watched as the funeral home took charge. It's almost time for me to leave and let his family grieve in peace.
For the first time, regret washed over me. I don't regret his death because I was the one who ended his life.
What I regret, though, was not killing Carmello Vincenzo, that bastard, when I had the chance a year ago. But black as my heart might be, I couldn't bring myself to kill him then.
She was there. The angel I’d met two years ago.
But I often wonder, if I had killed Carmello Vincenzo back then, would it have ended this war? Would Angelo and all the men we lost have survived?
The truth is probably not. In our line of business, there's no end to the number of enemies that would want nothing more than to shoot a bullet in our skulls. We gave as much as we got at the end of the day; we’re killers.
Don Carmello Vincenzo is a savage, but so am I. So it's pointless to regret Angelo's death when we're all on this warpath. Anyone could be the next body being buried.
I had shown Carmello mercy because of the golden eye angel, and that’s on me, but that was the last I would ever show him because I'm not backing down in this war, no matter what.
My eyes connected with Luca, my Consigliere, whose entire face had morphed from sadness to anger. He nodded at me, and instantly, I knew it was important.
Whispering a few words of comfort and encouragement to be strong to Angelo's widow and her fourteen-year-old son, who will be a made-man and replace his father in a little over a year, if not less.
I turned and made my way over to our cars, Fabio and the few men I had come with behind me.
Fabio hurries and opens the car door for me; I sit on the soft leather in the backseat. Luca rounded to the other side and entered the car, sitting beside me. Fabio sits beside my driver, Gino.
“What is it?” I asked, mentally preparing myself for the bad news.
“I just received a call that another one of our warehouses was hit. Everything is gone…”
“I swear if you tell me they left any of the Vincenzos alive, I'm going to go on a rampage, Luca,” I began coldly.
“Relax, it's not the Vincenzos,” he assured. I sighed and yanked at the black tie that suddenly felt constricting.
“Where? When?”
“Vegas, an hour ago.” I inhaled then exhaled.
“Any casualties?” While I hate losing money, losing manpower means we lose our footing, and we can't have that.
“Ten soldiers dead, three badly burnt, they're receiving treatment as we speak.” I could hear the anger in his voice, though his face was blank.
Luca has always been good at controlling his emotions; it was, after all, his level-headedness and his ability to keep calm in all situations that made him my Consigliere.
“And the enforcer?” I asked, contemplating.
“He'd turned himself in for investigation. It's Savio, he's the one overseeing the new delivery. I can vouch for him, Enzo; you know him. He's fucking loyal to you.”
Savio, just like Luca, is one of the few enforcers I trust. And I'm not someone who trusts anyone.
“Who?”
“We are still investigating, but all signs point to the Russians.” I suspected as much. Those sons of bitches are looking for war, and they'll fucking get it.
“This is the second time they'd strike against us. We've lost good soldiers; our businesses have suffered great losses. Our women had lost their husbands and sons,” I stopped and turned to stare him down.
“As my Consigliere, what do you suggest we do? Do you still think I should not attack them because of the stupid feds?” My voice was low, but my finger wasn't, as I poked him hard in the chest. I was trying not to explode; my blood was boiling with rage.
The car stopped outside the new Villa Marchetti. I pushed the car open before Fabio could, and started walking towards the house.
“I know you're angry, Capo, but we mustn't act rashly. We are already at war with the fucking Vincenzo's and the Mancini's. Our resources are stretched thin. Someone is leaking information to the feds about us; fortunately, there's no real evidence against us.
We are at a crucial point, Enzo: we cannot afford another war with the Russians. We can't fight on three fronts. You know all these as well as I do,” he said as he tried to catch up with my fast, angry strides.
The soldiers outside all stood up in greetings, nodding respectfully. Luca quieted down as we nodded at them as we strode on, getting inside the foyer and into the living area.
While I have retained the villa's original architecture, I have made quite a few changes; I've added and removed parts of the mansion I didn't like.
Like Marco's cigar lounge, which I hated. I've turned that into a personal gym; the bar attached I left alone, I saved the drinks; it was a good amount of liquor; why waste liquor?”
His garage, where he kept his antiquated vehicles, is now the armory. I hated those cars simply because he once beat me to a pulp over them, just for drawing a line on them. So I doused them with fuel and watched them burn while I imagined the wrath on his face. Let's just say I was that petty.
Though there's another armory in the secret room, it was an old feature that came with the villa right from the start. I left it the way it was, though I've had the doors and security systems upgraded to keep up with the times.
The overall place feels different, which was what I was aiming for when I had burned it down. I headed to the bar; I rounded the counter and picked out two glasses. I grabbed a bottle of Grand Marnier and poured it generously into the two glasses.
Taking my glass, I took a whiff of the bitter, orangey smell; I turned and pushed the other glass to Luca before knocking down my drink. Luca did the same and put his glass down on the counter.
“Unless…” he baited, his eyes calculating, and I knew instantly that I wasn't going to like whatever it was he was going to say. But still, I bite.
“What? Spit it out.”
“Okay, just listen until the end before you say anything; promise me.”
“I'm not going to like it, am I?”
“No, not one bit,” he admits.
“We aren't the only ones the Russians attacked. They'd planned everything and staged multiple attacks for maximum results; while we were busy fighting each other, they were trying to eliminate us all. Kill two birds with a single stone.”
“I received another call from Romero, Carmello’s Consigliere,” his younger brother, I, ended silently, pouring a second round of drinks for us both.
“They want a meeting, Lorenzo.”
“No.” My reply was swift and brooks no arguments. I already know where he's going with this.
“You promise to listen till the end.”
“God help us all if you're going to say what I think you're going to say, Luca.” I grabbed my drink and started for the stairs.
I point a finger at him. “And I never make any such promises.”
“We need allies, Lorenzo.”
“Which is why I had you set up a meeting with Matteo Moretti,” I said, taking off my tie entirely. “By the way, how did it go?”
“He says he will think about it, I think he's suspicious that he might walk into another trap,” Luca said with an amused glint in his eyes. My lips quirk up in amusement.
“That was entirely Alessandro's fault. My cousin has messed up the long-standing alliance between us, though I couldn't blame him for refusing to marry that witch Valentina.”
My thoughts went back to the day everything had changed for me, and I got the chance I'd long been waiting for. A lot of things had gone right until it didn't, and Alessandro had almost lost his life.
“You know what, just let him be, don't call him again. He will come begging for an alliance sooner than you think.”
“What are you planning, Enzo?” I laughed and shook my head. He will know when the time draws near.
“Are we going or not?”
“Not,” I gritted. “And I don't want to hear another word about it, Luca.” The edge of warning in my voice should have deterred him, but as always, the fucker ignored me. He was the only fucker who dared to do that.
“Enzo, we have to talk about this. As your Consigliere, I must advise you on matters that will affect our entire Famiglia and business.” his voice had taken that tone that shows how serious he is.
“The Vincenzos have suffered greatly from the Russians' attacks even more than we do. Can you not see what I see?” I scratch the bridge of my nose in irritation.
“No, not really.”
“We need an alliance.”
“No. Absolutely not. I hate The Vincenzos Luca, you know this. How can you even think of talking about an alliance between us?” I growled.
Turning on my heels, I change my destination from my office to my bedroom. Luca was right on my heels; the man is tenacious as fuck.
“You're the Capo Lorenzo, and you're brilliant as fuck, I know you didn't become the Capo just because you're hungry for power. I know you want to show all those fuckers that you are better than that old fuck. I also know you can think outside the box and do things you don't wanna do.
That's why you make me your Consigliere because you and I are the same, we do shit we fucking hate as long as we get the result we wanted. Or am I wrong?” We just stepped over the threshold of my room.
I place my glass on the bedside table as I begin unbuttoning my shirt. I thought over everything he'd said.
Everything the stubborn fucker said was the truth. I would do whatever the fuck it takes to achieve my goals, and to do that, I need the loyalty of all my captains.
“Those fuckers” Luca mentioned are the people who were loyal to Marco, my grandfather.
The death of Marco, despite the lies we had spun that I had no hand in, didn't mean they weren't suspicious of me. But none of them seem to have the courage to confront me and ask if I had a hand in the old Don's death.
My grandfather.
That is sacrilegious; loyalty is everything to us, especially loyalty among blood relatives. And yet there are whispers; some of them don't know what to believe; they're scared of me—terrified of the mad Lucifero.
They call me Lucifer or the devil(Diavolo) interchangeably. But Marco Marchetti was the real devil.
He had no limits or qualms about doing whatever it took to get his hands on money. As his successor, I should have continued with his legacy, but that's exactly what I will never do.
I hated the man with passion. Trafficking of women and children is something I would never agree with.
Those fuckers hated me for abolishing that as part of our business endeavors going forward. I have the loyalty of most of the soldiers; those who refused to bend their knees were mostly slaughtered.
There are still a few who refuse my new laws; they're the traitors, but the majority follow the rules I'd set down.
The hot-headed ones, I make examples of them, show them what happens when they go against the law. The law is harsh, unforgiving, and kills.
And I am that law now.