Touch My Son, Touch Your Death
The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass.
I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson.
And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile.
She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees.
"Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof."
I just raised an eyebrow.
The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo.
So when did a Falcone become gutter trash?
I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made.
"I hear the Falcone family has a new heir."
Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.