Martil’s pov My father didn’t know. That was the one thing I had made sure of for many years. Every move I made. Every deal I got and structured. Every mess I cleaned up, I kept everything far away from him. To him, I was just a difficult, unfilial, reckless and prodigal son. Everything I buried was standing right in front of me. They were alive, breathing and smiling. “Touch her again,” I said, my voice turning deadly, “and I’ll end you properly this time.” Nemir chuckled, wiping blood from his mouth as he stepped back from Corleone but not far enough for my liking. “You talk like you didn’t already try,” he said. “I didn’t try,” I replied. “I stopped when I was told to.” That was the truth and it was also the biggest mistake that I ever made. Rafe stepped forward slightly, his eyes locked on me. “You always did follow rules when it mattered most,” he said. I laughed under my breath. “Yeah,” I muttered. “Look where that got me.” Corleone shifted behind me. I could
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