18. FRANKIE

My head was mashed, almost like there was a constant fire alarm crushing through my skull. Pain sought after my attention from all corners of my body. My arms ached, my legs throbbed, and my face stung.

I remembered killing two guys, disarming another, and then taking a non-fatal blow to my leg.

It was hazy as I tried to open my eyes. A mixture of blood and sweat in my face. I tried to wipe it away with a hand, but it was caught on something. I pressed my face down into my shoulder to wipe on my shirt, and that's when I felt the impact on my nose.

"He's awake," a familiar voice called out.

No more than a couple seconds later and there was a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown at my face.

I saw where I was for the first time.

I was under the family house.

I'd been here before. And I knew exactly what they'd done.

My hands were cuffed and tied to the metal hook in the wall. They hadn't been like that since I was in my teens. I knew the price that I was paying was for disobeying my family, and I didn't regret one single thing about it.

"You should've just brought him to us," Tommy said, walking into my field of vision.

"We probably wouldn't have even killed him," Sandro added. "Well, I don't know what's happening with him now. Dad made a deal to have him taken care of."

I yanked on the metal chain, letting out an almighty roar from the depth of my chest. I'd made a promise to Cal. "You better unfuck this situation," I let out.

"Frankie, c'mon, you're the one with the cuffs on," Tommy said. "Nobody wants to see you like this. Dad is taking his sweet ass time getting down here. I think he's still talking to Vito upstairs. They don't know what to do with you. I mean, nobody knows what to do with you. You're a loose cannon now."

"Loose cannon," Sandro scoffed like a sycophantic boy, seeking approval.

"Guys, I'm just gonna ask you politely, let me go and I'll get this all sorted," I said, my nose itching through the pain. "And can you get someone to come and look at my nose?"

They looked at each other. Neither of them had experience setting a broken nose. Neither of them had experience with a lot of things.

"We'll wait for dad to get down," Tommy said.

"Please, I've broken my nose twice before. I heard on the third break, it's free," I said, trying to chuckle through the pain. "I need someone to wipe it and just see what the damage is." I was doing my best to appeal to them. They never saw me on my knees begging. And if they were lucky, they'd never see me like this ever again.

After a moment of them whispering to each other, I heard the door above from above, and my father's heavy footsteps creek down the wooden staircase into the basement.

Over at the other side of the basement there was a wine rack that covered the entire wall. That was where the collectable stuff went, and not the type my mom used to serve with dinner or at lunches.

"Francesco," my father said, standing in front of Tommy and Sandro. He tutted. "What in the hell have you done this time?"

"You tell me, you're the one that has me chained up like some animal," I said. Holding back hadn't worked out how I'd wanted it to. "If you'd have just let us explain and tell you what was going on, you might've understood. But no. You always think you know best."

My father raised his hands up and shrugged. "I do," he said. "And I'll fight any man who says otherwise."

Vito hummed in agreement, reminding me he was there. It was getting a little crowded now. "The fact of the matter is, Cal killed one of our men. You know as well as every other man in Philly that you can't carry out an attack on us and think you can get away with it."

"Exactly what Vito said, and we might not have killed him, there's really no saying what might have happened," my father added. "But he's taken care of now."

"No," I said, yanking the chain. "You gave him to the man who was undercutting your business, the man who held him in a basement for a month, raping him."

Their faces were unphased, almost like I was trying to make this up for their benefit.

"Grant was a great chemist," Vito said. "He went to prison, and he never told a soul about the family."

They all nodded in agreement to what my uncle was saying. They were so blind to eat up whatever they were being told, but only if it fit their stupid narrative. They wanted Cal gone, and they wanted me single again. I'd seen the writing on the wall, I knew he'd made me soft and caring. They saw that in me as well. I'd gone from killing without question, to putting in a bit of my own research before carrying out a hit.

"Grant was one of mine," Sandro added. "And he's done a lot of good. He hasn't rat on anyone. In fact, he didn't even want to rat on you and Cal. He's the one who knew where you were." He stepped forward. "He's the one all about Cal, apparently that was his boyfriend, you stole him when he went to prison."

"Fucking liar."

"Nobody is lying," my father shouted. "The only person here who is lying is you, and you're lying to yourself. You knew from the start that boy was no good."

"Did I tell you where I found him?" I shouted back, my face hurting as the vibration from my voice tingled in the bridge of my nose.

"You found him probably wandering the streets looking lost when Grant was arrested," Vito scoffed. "Because I'm starting to think that maybe the tip off for him was you."

"Give me a fucking break." My hands were in fists, ready to punch a hole straight through someone's skull. "I found him in that crack den under the Chinese restaurant. That's where Grant was cooking up crack and selling it cheap, killing off all those people. You know, it's weird how his arrest coincided with that gang miraculously vanishing."

They stared at me, not a single unique thought going on behind their eyes. It was all the same narrative they'd been fed. And I didn't even know if I could blame them for believing it.

"Unless you thought I'd killed them. Which is what I will be doing once I'm out of here. I'm going to find him and gut him and every other person who ambushed me," I said, staring at all four of them. "If this is you asking me to make a choice, well, I'll make it for you right now."

He turned away, shaking his head. "If you think that's a choice you're going to make, then I'll leave you down here until you start to see some sense."

It was a choice my body had made for itself. And it chose Cal.

As everyone walked off back upstairs, I yanked as hard as I could on the metal chains from my hands cuffed behind my back. My family were making the choice to leave me down here, and that was their mistake.

After about fifteen minutes, I'd almost tired myself out, but then the swelling in my face ached and I was quickly reminded of what I was fighting for. I couldn't even imagine what was happening for Cal right now. But he was stronger than anyone had given him credit for.

Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to push through thoughts for him. I knew it was nonsense, but it gave me some peace while I was doing it. I kept thinking to myself about how he used to tell me to just think positive vibes, and I laughed at him. He was so sweet and silly sometimes. It made the idea that Grant had got him again sit heavy on my chest, and I'd dislocate every bone in my body if it meant getting my opportunity to save him from that.

"You know if you'd have just told dad what he wanted to hear, you'd have been let out," Sandro said as he crept down the staircase. "Also, mom is up there in a fit because you're down here."

Staring up at Sandro's smug face, I shook my head. "Maybe one day, you'll fight for what you love as well," I said. "Maybe when you can do that, then you can talk to me. But—"

"Listen," he snapped, stopping me. "I want to know what you meant when you were talking about Grant undercutting us earlier."

I knew someone had to have been paying attention. "It's simple," I said. "You got played. Grant had been stealing, using those supplies to make his own experimental shit, selling it for half the price, and—" I stopped myself this time, seeing a smile appear on Sandro's face. "And maybe you knew about it all this time."

He scoffed. "Of course, I knew. I was the one who got him arrested too." He rolled his eyes. "He was too hot, selling that shit like it wasn't running out. The market doesn't work if you flood it. Anyway, half of what he made went into my pocket, which was still enough for me to save up. You know, when dad decides to hand the family business off to Tommy, I'm gonna end up like Vito, no real power, always asking for help."

Sighing was all I could muster. "He's gonna hand it over to the twins anyway," I told him. I'd overheard our father planning that. "We're too rough around the edges to take the family in the right direction. He's got the entire future planned for Mattia and Elena. But you wouldn't know that, would you?"

"They're kids," he said.

"Mattia and Elena will legitimize everything, and you're dumb enough to think the family is going to keep you around once everything is clean. We're gonna be the first out. Well, maybe they'll keep me on as security, but you." I laughed, a single echoed laugh. "You'll be going to them, hands out, begging for money. Because you know dad isn't leaving anything for us."

I didn't know if any of what I was saying was true, but it was riling Sandro up, and that's exactly where I needed him to be right now.

"If that was true then—"

"Why are they the only two who were pushed into going to college?"

"They wanted to go."

I shook my head. "No, they didn't. In fact, I think I remember you saying you wanted to go to college once. You must've been like twelve when you decided it. Dad grounded you for an entire month, you remember what he told you?" This was the truth, and I remembered it well. "I know. He told you to stop thinking you're better than him and do as you're told."

The crushing realization touched Sandro's face. He knew that was true. And I knew that sprinkling in a single truth made him believe the lies I'd just told about our youngest siblings. I was the one in chains, but he was the one trying to wriggle his way out of this.

"It's sad, isn't it?" I provoked.

"You're an asshole," he said, stepping closer so he didn't have to speak so loudly. "You know, I'm glad Grant took Cal, and with any luck, you'll never see him again. The only reason dad doesn't give you any more responsibility is because you're only good for one thing, and that thing doesn't even require any skill." His words were sharp, but I'd developed a thick skin, and to me those words were no more than plastic. "Anyone can point a gun and shoot, y'know, anyone can do that. It's not some talent. It's just the only thing you're good for."

He kept getting closer and closer, like the closer he got, the more he thought his little whispers would get to me. It was the opposite in fact, each step he took closer to me, I could smell my freedom.

"What did you say?" I asked in a whisper.

"I said, you don't have any real talent."

And at that point, I swiped his legs out from under him. He landed headfirst in front of me. "I thought that's what you said." I wrapped my leg around his neck and pulled him up toward me, one leg down his torso, and another hooked around his neck slowly crushing at his windpipe. "Now, you should probably call for help."

As kids, we fought constantly. I'd always be the one who took things too far. The kid who liked to see people bleed out of curiosity. Mine and my brothers' bodies were marked with little knicks from horsing around. Sometimes, those knicks came from the corners of table, or a sharp stone. But I never really knew when I'd taken things too far.

Sandro's shouting had caught our father's attention.

"Good," I said, flexing my calf muscle up against Sandro's throat.

Our father stood in front of us, gasping for air after almost taking a tumble down the stairs. "Let your brother out of that, right now."

"No. I want you to make a choice now," I told him. "Either you let me go so I can find Cal and we can set this straight, or I cut off his oxygen supply and you can have him comatose on life support for the rest of his life, and you end up killing me for what I've done."

Sandro pleaded for his life.

"And I'm sure you'd like to know about Sandro's little side hustle too," I said. "I'll tell you everything. So, what's it gonna be?"