Chapter 25

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

IT WAS WELL after three a.m. when Dom’s phone went off. Lucky for whoever was on the end of the line that he hadn’t been able to sleep yet, or they would’ve gotten the same treatment he sent Luca away with.

He brought the phone up to his ear. “What.”

“There’s been an incident,” Chef said. “We’re on our way up.”

When the line went dead, Dom forced himself out of bed and threw on a shirt and lounge pants. He took one look into Luca’s room through the mirror, but he’d long since passed out and wasn’t stirring a bit.

Good. Whatever was going down wasn’t anything that concerned him.

Dom made it downstairs just as a knock sounded, and he checked the camera on his phone to make sure it was Chef before hitting unlock.

He’d brought several others with him, Gino included, and Dom gestured to the dining table for everyone to take a seat. At some point Chef had changed out of his tux, but the others still wore theirs, though they were in varying disheveled states.

“What happened?” Dom said.

“Shit went down after the event.” Chef, casual as ever, threw his arm over the back of his chair.

“Other than the alley?”

“Oh yeah. I guess they got the message when I sent him back in a keg barrel. Didn’t like that much.”

“No one gives a fuck what they like. They had someone prowling in the goddamn alley. Were there more?”

“If there were, Chef scared ’em off,” Gino said. “Boss was ready to shut things down after what happened with Luca, but we got word they had a big meeting, so most of the fuckers were at the Fiores’. It wasn’t gonna be a mass attack.”

“Then why do all of you look like shit?” Dom asked.

No one said anything for a long minute, not until Dom slammed a fist on the table.

“What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

Everyone looked at each other, avoiding Dom’s eyes.

“They got Rafael,” Gino said quietly.

Dom went still. It was so quiet he could practically hear each and every one of his crew’s heartbeats as he rose to his feet.

“What…do you mean…they got him,” he said.

When Gino didn’t want to continue, Chef sat forward. “We found his body at the shipyard. With a note.”

“Motherfuckers,” Dom said, shoving his seat back so hard that the chair smashed into the wall. “Where the fuck were you? Where was his backup?”

“You know exactly where we were tonight. Here,” Chef said calmly, spreading his hands. “Boss’s orders.”

“Goddamn it.” Dom paced, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He kicked the fallen chair out of his way, sending pieces of it flying across the room. “And the shipment? The guns?”

Gino winced. “Gone.”

“All of them?”

“Both containers. They were ready for them. It was over before Ralphy even got out of his car.”

Dom bit down so hard on his molars that he was surprised they didn’t crack. “Where’s the note?”

All eyes widened as Dom walked back to the table and braced his hands on the surface.

“Uh, well—”

“The note, Gino! Where the fuck is it?”

Gino shifted in his seat then pulled out a folded piece of paper. He glanced at Chef, who shrugged, and then leaned across the table, sliding the note over to Dom.

The room fell silent as Dom picked up the paper and unfolded it, and the bloodstained parchment was a stark reminder of where the note had been found. He glanced around at the stoic faces of his men, before turning his attention back to the macabre message.

You’re a dead man, Rossetti. You can’t hide up in Daddy’s tower forever. We’ll take back what belongs to us, and you and the rest of your family can go back to be nothing more than pretty wannabes.

A red haze of hatred clouded Dom’s vision as he read the message once, twice, and a third time just to be certain he was seeing the words right. Then he curled his hand into a fist and spun around to punch at the wall.

The pain from the blow ricocheted up his arm in a way that satisfied his need for destruction, but it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stand here and lash out at inanimate objects when one of their men—his men—had been shot down tonight because he’d had to stay locked up behind closed doors.

The Fiores knew how to provoke him, that was for sure. They knew he wouldn’t want to be locked up any more than he’d want the reminder. But until his father gave the all-clear, that’s what he was—locked up. Tethered. Restricted.

A sound by the fireplace caught his attention, and Dom whipped around, ready to attack. But when he saw Luca, he froze. He’d thought the kid was still asleep. It would’ve been better if he had been.

But like all Fiores, it seemed Luca was put on this earth to provoke Dom, and he was done playing at this we-can-coexist-in-this-space shit. Luca was Dom’s captive, everything he detested and his mortal enemy, and just because he’d had his dick shoved down Luca’s throat earlier that night didn’t mean the kid could just walk around this place as though he were on a goddamn vacation.

With no one else around to take his anger out on, Dom stormed across the room to Luca. Chef said, “Dom, wait a second,” but Dom wasn’t in the mood to listen.

Luca seemed to understand the volatile situation he’d just walked into and started to back up, but it was too late, and Dom was faster. Quick as a flash he reached out and grabbed a handful of Luca’s shirt, then he hauled him in and snarled in his face, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing down here?”

Luca’s face paled and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“I asked you a question.”

“Nothing—sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dom scoffed and shoved Luca back. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Thankfully Luca didn’t give him any lip right now, because with the way Dom was feeling, it wouldn’t end well.

Luca didn’t waste time getting the hell back upstairs, and once he was out of earshot, Dom went back to the table. He picked up the bloodstained note and balled it in his fist.

“They want me, I’ll show up at their goddamned door.”

“Sorry, but that can’t happen,” Chef said.

“The hell it can’t. Hiding up here is a pussy move, and you know it.”

“It’s also the boss’s orders.” Chef shrugged.

Dom threw the ball of paper and began to pace again, unable to sit still. Not when others were taking the fall and he could do something about it.

“Get him on the line,” Dom said.

“Where do you think we just came from? You weren’t the first stop.”

“And?”

“And if there was something for you to do other than twiddle your damn thumbs, the boss would’ve told you directly.”

“This is bullshit. I should be out there.”

Chef picked up the crumpled note. “Did you not read this shit? You want Luca falling into their hands? Make this a never-ending war? We’re so close, Dom. But you have to chill the fuck out. Up here.”

Dom shook his head, rage still fueling him, but with no outlet, nowhere to go, what could he fucking do?

“Still have a punching bag in the gym?”

When Dom shot Chef a glare, the bastard smirked. Then he had the audacity to cut his eyes toward the stairs.

“Maybe you need to pound something?” His grin grew wider.

“Maybe if you don’t have anything else to report, you all need to get the fuck out.”

Chef held up his hands and got to his feet, and the others did the same. But before he walked out the door, he pulled Dom aside.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Right. Like what you were just implying?”

“No. Like leaving. I wouldn’t even go downstairs if I were you. It’s just not worth it.”

Dom had a response on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back and sighed. “Fuck you.”

Chef grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “Fuck you too, man. Or better yet…” He looked at the stairs and waggled his brows.

“Out.” When Chef didn’t move fast enough, Dom gave him a firm shove and slammed the door in his face.