No Funeral Before Revenge

“She needs it right now. I'm glad none of the men are here. She would have to struggle to maintain integrity around them. At least now she can grieve alone.”

“About that. Where did they go?”

She sighs softly.

“Roman ordered that there be no funeral or mourning until they avenged Dad's death. They're there now. Every man who's still loyal to the family is trying to catch the culprit.”

My fists clench. That explains my father and brother's absence.

“Is that necessary?”

I understand their desire for revenge, but shouldn’t they be allowed to mourn the loss of someone who meant so much to all of us?

A glint appears in Rose’s eyes.

“He’s the Don now. His word is law.”

My eyes widen as she hits me. I hadn’t even thought about it.

“Oh, my God. I just realized that Roman is in control. Everyone screwed up. There must be a party in hell.”

It’s a small victory, but I manage to make Rose smile. A small, tiny smile, but it’s enough.

She bumps her shoulder into my side.

“Don't be mean.”

I shrug. Then my expression sobers.

“And how is he? How is everyone?”

She sighs.

“Well, Roman hasn't said a word since yesterday except to give orders to everyone and everything. He switched off, what's typical. Your father is almost the same. There is such a hunted look in his eyes.”

At the same time, pain shot through my chest. My father and Ricardo were best friends. He was the closest person to the Don, not counting Vincent. I'm sure Dad blames himself now.

Rosa continues:

"Your brother hugged me and said he was sorry. Michael is walking around with a bullet wound in his shoulder.”

I'm choking.

"What?"

"He was shot yesterday. He remained motionless long enough for the doctor to remove the bullet, but he refused any other medical treatment until Vincent was captured. They are all out for revenge. We lost Miguel, too. And three other men. I can’t blame them for pushing their grief aside.”

“They’ll be okay,” I whisper soothingly.

We sit in the living room, and she rests her head on my shoulder. I pull her closer, rubbing her arm. I hate that I’m home in the middle of a disaster. But there’s no place I’d rather be than with my family in this moment of devastation.

We’re still talking when we hear the front door open. We both get to our feet and head down the hall. I notice Roman first, then Tony and Michael. They all look worn, haggard, tired. I try not to flinch at the blood splatter on Tony’s shirt sleeve.

None of them seems surprised to see me here. I open my mouth to say something, but Rose beats me to it.

“Is this the end? Did you catch him?”

Michael has to answer.

“Not yet, Rose.”

“Are you guys okay? Where’s Dad?” I ask.

“Dad’s been busy with some Upper East Side stuff with a couple of investors,” my brother says. “Good to see you home, sis.”

I smile. Roman clears his throat, getting our attention. Finally, I look at him—look at him.

Thick, wavy dark hair, cheekbones so sharp they could cut ice, and eyes the color of the night sky. His broad shoulders are accentuated by the white shirt he’s wearing. Everything about Roman De Luca screams strength and confidence.

He radiates sex appeal. He might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He reminds me of the sirens in mythology. They lure you in with their pretty faces and voices, and then drown you.

He looks worse than I've ever seen him, though. I open my mouth to ask how he's doing, but decide against it. If I'm lucky, he'll ignore me; if not, he'll say something harsh, reminding me how much I dislike him and why. He's going through a lot. The best I can do is keep my distance.

His eyes are looking at me, too, assessing me. He hasn't seen me in over a year. He shakes his head slightly before turning to my brother.

“We don’t have time for pleasantries. You two get changed. We’ll meet D’Angelo in thirty minutes,” Roman says before leaving.

D’Angelo? The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Before I can ask my brother, he shakes his head. He gives me a small smile and squeezes my shoulder before following the new Don.

Michael stops in front of me to kiss my cheek.

“Welcome home, Elena,” he says warmly. Then he’s gone, too.

***

Roman POV

There are five Mafia families in New York: the De Lucas, the D'Angelo, the Gallo, the Russo, and the Mincetti. The Gallos are new. They recently came to power after the D'Angelos crushed the De Santos.

The three most powerful families are undoubtedly mine: the D'Angelos and the Mincettis. As far as we can tell, the Mincettis are mostly of Italian descent, but they have a couple of Russian ancestors. They are practically ghosts. Not much is known about them.

My family is pretty modest, but the Mincettis are on a whole other level. No one knows the identity of the Don or his family members. They do business under aliases.

What makes them powerful is that they are invincible. We have no idea how rich they are or how much power they wield. No one crosses the Minzettis. If you do, you usually don't live to tell the tale.

The Russos and the Gallos are nothing but snakes. They're the worst of the worst, petty thieves, unorganized. Especially those damn Russos. My family has hated them for years.

We're their prime targets. I can't tell you the number of raids the Russos have pulled on our businesses over the years, stealing most of our drug supply.

The D'Angelo Family of the Upper East Side is probably the most famous Mafia Family in New York. They are loud, they are notorious. The Family gets a lot of media attention. They go to galas, social events, and socialize with most of the high-class people. We are pretty much the opposite.