90 It Starts Now

90 It Starts Now
Luca.

Leaving Emma behind with the women, the rest of us gathered for one final meeting at the packhouse before everyone dispersed to their respective territories. 

For the first time, Luciano joined us, his presence a somber reminder of the price we had paid to uncover the truth. The betrayal of his brother, Mario, had shaken him to his core. His pain was palpable as he shared how the revelation brought clarity to lingering doubts and unanswered questions. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but at least the truth was no longer buried.

During the meeting, we learned that Mario’s cooperation with our enemies had exposed key players—Perez and the other three families—whose involvement had almost led to our destruction. 

They had promised Mario the Alpha title of Ashfield, and he had taken their bait. It was a cruel irony. My family had once harbored a deep distrust of the Russos for their perceived betrayals, yet here was Mario, proving himself to be the ultimate traitor. His betrayal cut deeper because it wasn’t just about power; he had turned his back on those who genuinely cared for him and his well-being. Understanding his motivations was impossible, but the damage he had intended to inflict was clear.

Diego’s death had been a turning point—a moment of catharsis. I had poured all my anger for Roberto and Emma into that fight, channeling my fury into a victory that felt deeply personal. 

As for my brothers, it became obvious why Emma had never feared them. They were neither strong nor cunning but instead gullible and easily manipulated. 

Despite everything, Karolyn’s unexpected act of loyalty had compelled me to reconsider my stance on them. They were legitimate children, and in the spirit of fairness—and to avoid future conflict—I decided to grant them a share of the family business.

When my father relayed my decision, their gratitude was sincere. They chose not to accompany us to Celio but instead returned to Sunbridge to care for their ailing mother. It was a surprising turn of events. 

I even learned that Randy was married and had a child. He promised to visit Emma and me with his family soon. Just hours before, I had viewed them as my sworn enemies, obstacles I was prepared to eliminate. Yet time, in its peculiar way, had softened the edges of my resentment and reshaped my perspective.

As we approached the packhouse, the atmosphere was electric. The heads of the twelve Mafia families were gathered, along with Bruce, who made the thirteenth. They had been waiting for us, and their faces lit up with relief and joy when we arrived. Cheers erupted, echoing across the space, and I could see the weight that had lifted from their shoulders. The tension that had gripped us all for weeks was gone, replaced by the shared relief of a conflict resolved without the devastating loss of life.

The sight of their genuine happiness moved me. Most of them had sent their family members back home, prioritizing their safety now that the threat had been neutralized. The gratitude in their eyes mirrored my own. None of us had wanted a bloodbath, and we had been spared one. For that, I silently gave thanks.

The meeting was brief, as there were still pressing matters to address. Decisions had to be finalized, loose ends tied up, and plans set into motion. Yet my thoughts were elsewhere. I longed to be back in the comfort of my bed, holding my wife close, both of us finally able to rest without the shadow of danger looming over us. 

The meeting hall, a familiar place that had borne witness to countless decisions and debates, was filled with a heavy silence as we entered. It had become the heart of our operations at the packhouse, a place of strategy and judgment. Now, it would bear witness to one of the final chapters of this turbulent time.

Once everyone was seated, my security team brought in the prisoners: Mario Russo and Marco Diaz. Their presence darkened the room. Each man had committed crimes so severe that their punishment was already clear. They had betrayed their own, broken sacred codes, and caused the loss of innocent lives. 

Mario’s actions were particularly heinous—he had conspired with the cult, providing them with information that led to the slaughter of families. Looking at him filled me with disgust. I couldn’t stand to meet his gaze for too long.

“You know why you’re here,” I said, my voice steady and cold. They remained silent, their heads bowed. I could see the defeat etched on their faces. But remorse, no matter how deep, could never undo the damage they had caused.

“Do you have anything to say for yourselves?” I asked. Again, silence. Perhaps they understood the futility of explanations at this point, or perhaps they were too ashamed to speak. The weight of their guilt was palpable, but it did nothing to soften my resolve.

Mario finally broke the silence. “Luciano, please take care of my wife and child. They were not a part of this,” he said, his voice low and somber. His plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to shield his family from the consequences of his choices. 

I glanced at Luciano, trying to read his expression. There was a flicker of something—compassion, perhaps, or resignation. But it was impossible to forget that Mario had plotted against his own blood, endangering Luciano’s pregnant mate in the process. Mario’s mercy would never have extended to Catalina if their roles had been reversed.

Luciano’s silence spoke volumes, and I suspected he would spare Mario’s wife and child. If he did, it would be a testament to his strength and honor. It would also be more mercy than Mario deserved.

Mathias stepped forward, his voice carrying the finality of a gavel. 

“Take them to the outskirts of Celio and execute them,” he ordered. The room accepted the decision without protest. Justice had to be served, and there was no room for leniency in this matter.

As the meeting continued, I made another pivotal decision. I officially handed over Celio territory to Bruce, with Veronica as its rightful Alpha. She and her new mate, Gilbert, were more than capable of leading, and it was a long-overdue correction to a history of mismanagement and betrayal. I knew I’d return to Celio often; my connection to the people and the place was too deep to sever completely. But my primary focus would be elsewhere—on Emma and the life we were building together.

After dealing with other minor matters, the meeting wrapped up. As people prepared to leave for their respective homes, Mathias announced my upcoming wedding on Saturday. Though I’d wanted a small, quiet affair, it became clear that my union with Emma would be celebrated with grandeur. Many of the Mafia bosses decided to stay, eager to mark the occasion with us. The idea of a large gathering wasn’t my preference, but I couldn’t deny the joy it brought to those who had stood by us.

When I returned home, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. The past weeks had been a relentless storm of fear, strategy, and loss, and now, at last, a sense of peace was beginning to settle. I went straight to my room, where Emma was fast asleep. Seeing her like that, her body relaxed in the safety of our home, brought a rare and precious sense of relief.

I had intended to wake her, to lose myself in her warmth and remind us both of what we had fought so hard to protect. But sleep crept over me before I could act on those intentions. The bed called to me, its comfort irresistible. There would be time for love and tenderness when we were both rested, when the weariness of battle had faded. For now, it was enough to know that Emma was safe, that we were together, and that brighter days lay ahead.