4. Lazaro

4

LAZARO

I leave the kitchen, annoyed at Lana for ruining the nice moment I'd been having with Diana. Then there is guilt over Lana’s hurt expression… for what, I don’t know. I push it away. I can't deal with her expectations right now.

I find Elio and Matteo in Elio's office. They're huddled together, speaking in low voices. They look up as I enter, and Elio's expression softens.

He smiles. “Perfect timing. We’re about to head out to take care of business. We thought you might like to join us.”

I have no doubt they expect joining in on the family business will jar my memory. What the hell do I know? Maybe it will. Either way, I’m going stir crazy hanging out waiting for memories to return.

"It appears Tony’s been skimming and we need to handle it.”

My stomach clenches as I wonder what “handle it” means. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Elio leans back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "Relax, Lazaro. We're not looking to break any kneecaps here."

“So… what, then?”

“We're just going to have a little chat with him. Remind him who he's dealing with. You don't have to do anything but tag along," Elio assures me.

Matteo snorts. "Just you walking in will have him shitting his pants."

I scowl at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

"There it is!" Matteo grins. "That's the look that'll make our little rat piss himself. Trust me, Lazaro, you won't have to say a word. Just stand there and glower."

I don’t like that I scare people just by being. But at least I’m not being asked to hurt the guy.

"So, when do we do this?" I ask.

"Now," Matteo says, standing up. "You ready for this, Cuz?"

I nod, even though I'm not sure I am. As we head out, I try to shirk off the feeling that I'm walking into something I don't fully understand. My whole life now is facing things I don’t understand.

Moments later, we're in the car. Matteo is driving while Elio rides shotgun, and I'm in the back seat. During the ride, I stare out the window at sights I feel like I’ve seen but don’t remember. Sort of like a déjà vu. Thoughts of Diana fill my head. Her smile, her easy laughter. She must know about the family and yet, it doesn’t seem to bother her.

We end up in an industrial area of town, pulling into a warehouse. We exit the vehicle, and I follow Elio and Matteo through an office area adjacent to the warehouse. I don’t recall ever being here, but the change in atmosphere from the people who are working suggests I’ve been here before. The activity grinds to a halt as every eye turns our way.

As we make our way toward an office, I catch snippets of hushed conversations.

"Shit, it's the D'Amatos."

"Is that… Lazaro?"

"I thought he was dead."

"Looks like the mad dog's back."

My stomach churns at their words. Mad dog? Is that what they call me?

Workers scramble out of our path, their eyes wide with fear, darting between us but always coming back to me. I see the terror in their faces, the way they hold their breath as we pass.

"Look at 'em scatter," Matteo chuckles, nudging me with his elbow. "Just like old times, eh?"

I grunt noncommittally, unable to share his amusement. This doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like me.

I try to shake off the unease as we approach a small office at the back of the warehouse.

As if he recognizes my discomfort, Matteo throws an arm around my shoulders. "Cheer up. You've still got it! That's power, my friend."

I shrug off his arm, scowling. "I don't want people to fear me."

Matteo laughs, shaking his head. "Fear's better than love any day. Love's fickle, but fear? Fear keeps people in line."

As much as I hate to admit it, I can see the logic in what he's saying. The fear in those workers' eyes, the way they scattered at our approach, is power. A power I'm not sure I want, but one that seems inextricably linked to who I am in this family.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You won’t have to. Your reputation does half the work for you. Makes our job a hell of a lot easier."

Elio, who's been quiet during our exchange, turns to me with a grim smile. "Ready to put that reputation to work, Brother?"

So that’s why I’m here? Not to jog my memory but to scare the shit out of people.

I roll my shoulders and steel myself. This is my role, whether I like it or not.

We walk in and a lanky man with a grizzled face stands. "Mr. D'Amato," he stammers, eyes flicking between Elio and Matteo. Then he sees me and sucks in a breath. “Lazaro… you’re back.”

“We’re very happy to have him home, but this isn’t a reunion. Sit down, Tony," Elio says smoothly, taking a seat across from him. Matteo leans against the wall, arms crossed. I remain standing, unsure what to do with myself.

I watch as Elio leans forward, his voice low and dangerous. "We know what you've been up to, Tony. The numbers don't lie."

Tony's face pales, but he shakes his head vehemently. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. D'Amato. The numbers have been good. Growing."

Matteo snorts, pushing off the wall. "Cut the bullshit, Tony. We know math."

Tony's eyes dart to me, and I see a flicker of fear before he masks it.

"Look," Tony says, his voice trembling slightly. "I've been with this organization for fifteen years. I've always done right by you."

Elio's eyes narrow. "Then explain the discrepancies in our books."

Tony's composure cracks. His face flushes red, and he slams his hand on the desk. "You don't understand! I got in a jam, okay? I needed money. But I was going to pay it back, I swear!"

I flinch at his outburst, my hand instinctively moving to my waist where I assume I once carried a weapon. The movement doesn't go unnoticed by Tony, whose eyes widen in panic.

"Please," he begs, "I just need more time. I'll make it right, I promise." The desperation in his voice makes my stomach churn. I remember Diana's kindness, her warmth. What would she think of me if she could see me now, standing by while my family threatens a man over money?

Elio's face hardens, his patience clearly wearing thin. "How much we've done for you? You’ve got a nice house. Your wife wears nice clothes. Your kids’ college educations are paid. And this is how you repay us? By stealing?"

Tony's desperation is palpable, his eyes darting between us like a cornered animal. I feel a twinge of pity.

Tony's hand darts beneath his desk and a second later, it reappears with a gun that he points toward Elio. "You don't understand! I had no choice! But I was gonna pay it back! I just needed more time!"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my vision blurs, tinged with red. I'm dimly aware of charging over the desk and wrestling the gun from Tony's hand. After that, everything becomes a haze of violence and rage. I'm not me anymore. I'm someone brutal and merciless. I use the gun to pummel Tony. The sickening crunch of bone echoes in my ears. But I can't stop.

Tony's screams barely register. All I can hear is the pounding of blood in my ears, drowning out everything else. I don't know how long it lasts—seconds, minutes, hours—but suddenly, strong arms are pulling me back.

"Lazaro, stop! It's over!" Elio's voice cuts through the fog.

“You should let him finish it,” Matteo says even as he helps Elio pull me off Tony.

I blink, reality slowly coming back into focus. The red haze lifts from my vision, and I see Tony lying on the floor, a bloody, battered mess. My stomach lurches as I realize what I've done.

I look down at my hands, holding the gun now covered with Tony’s blood. Horror washes over me, leaving me cold and shaky.

“You’re okay,” Elio says, his hand on my shoulder giving me a shake. I’m not sure if he’s telling me or asking me.

I stumble back. "I… I… I don't know what happened."

But even as I say the words, I know they're not entirely true. Some part of me knew exactly what it was doing. This violence, this rage is a part of me. No matter how much I want to deny it, it's there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to explode at a moment's notice. The realization makes me sick.

I drop the gun, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I glance at Elio and Matteo. Elio looks concerned, but Matteo is watching me with awe and respect.

"That's the Lazaro we know," Matteo says, clapping me on the back.

I flinch away from his touch, unable to bear the pride in his voice.

“I’ve got to go.” I stumble out of the office, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Lazaro,” Elio calls after me.

I ignore him, continuing toward the exit of the warehouse, feeling the weight of dozens of terrified gazes. The employees give me a wide berth.

"Lazaro,” Elio calls again.

I keep moving toward the exit. I can't be here anymore. I can't be this person they want me to be. When I get outside, I suck in a deep breath, willing fresh air to purge the anger and violence pumping through my blood.

Then I start walking with no destination in mind. I walk aimlessly through the streets. I don’t know how long I’m at it when I turn a corner to find an auto mechanic shop. Without thinking, I walk in. The smells of oil and grease hit me, and along with them, the need to work, knowing that cars bring me peace.

“You’re not allowed—” The older man approaching me stops short, his eyes widening in recognition and fear. "M–Mr. D'Amato. Can I… can I help you with something?"

His reaction stings, reminding me of the blood still on my hands.

“I want to work on a car.”

His eyes narrow. “Whose?”

It takes me a moment, but I suspect he thinks I want to sabotage a car. “Any car. Doesn’t matter.” I point toward a dark sedan up on a lift. “How about that one?”

The man is wary about letting me near his cars, but also afraid to send me away. "We have protocols, insurance…"

“I know cars. If I fuck it up, I’ll pay to buy the owner a new car.”

“It needs brakes and rotors,” the man says.

I nod and make my way to the car. Here, I can be me.