Chapter Six

Drago

I felt different. Lighter.

The weight that had been a part of me for as long as I could remember had eased somehow, as if the darkness that had always clung to me had loosened its grip. Since being with Angel, everything had shifted. I couldn't explain it—hell, I didn't even want to try—but it was as though some invisible barrier between the man I was and the man I could be had cracked open. For years, I'd lived in shadow, cloaked in the violence and ruthlessness that had built my empire, but now…now I felt something else.

Hope? Redemption? The words didn't fit right. I wasn't a good man, and wouldn't fool myself into thinking I ever would be. I had spilled too much blood, committed too many sins. But being with Angel had done something to me. She was a light, and it was impossible not to feel the warmth when I was near her. She didn't just change my world—she challenged it.

After staring at the spires atop the old Catholic church of my parish through the window of my office all morning, I left the building and walked down the street toward it. I hadn't set foot inside the place for years. God was something I hadn't believed in since childhood, and faith had no place in my life, not with the things I'd done. But today, something inside me felt raw, exposed, and the church called to me.

The heavy oak doors creaked open, and I stepped inside. The quiet hit me like a wave, the familiar scent of incense filling the air. The place was empty, save for the soft flicker of candles lining the altar, casting long shadows across the pews. The stained glass windows bathed the room in muted light, colors of red, blue, and gold washing over the empty space. It felt holy in a way I had forgotten.

I hesitated for a moment, but my feet moved on their own, carrying me down the aisle toward the cross that loomed above the altar. Christ's face was cast in shadows, his body hanging limp, and I stared up at him, my chest tightening as I stood before the symbol of salvation that I'd never felt was meant for me.

Without thinking, I dropped to my knees. The floor was cold and hard beneath me, the rough texture of the tile digging into my skin, but I didn't care. I bowed my head, closing my eyes against the wave of emotions rising inside me, a torrent of guilt, fear, and something else I hadn't felt in years—regret.

My lips moved before I could stop them, a quiet, desperate whisper escaping into the silence. "Forgive me, Lord, for the sins I have committed, and for those I am yet to commit."

The words fell from my mouth like stones, heavy with the weight of years of violence, betrayal, and darkness. I wasn't asking for absolution—not really. I wasn't foolish enough to think I could ever be forgiven for the things I had done. But part of me…part of me wanted to be. Not for myself, but for the sake of the people I loved. For Angel. For my children.

I stayed there, kneeling in front of the cross for what felt like an eternity, letting the silence wash over me. But the peace I sought didn't come. It didn't matter if I wanted to change, to exorcise the demon that had been passed down to me. The world I lived in would never allow it.

The phone in my pocket buzzed, jarring me out of my thoughts. I stood, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. Reaper's name flashed across it.

I answered, already sensing that something was wrong. "What is it?"

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, and when Reaper finally spoke, his voice was rough, edged with tension. "It's your uncle…Salvatore…He's missing."

My grip on the phone tightened. Salvatore. The old kingpin. He had been the head of the family for a decade since my father died, before his own health started to deteriorate. When the Consigliere decided Sal was no longer fit to lead, they had turned to me. I'd taken over, stepping into his shoes when his mind had started to go, when his sons had proven too weak to handle the mantle of power.

In the year since, Sal had been a ghost of his former self—still sharp in moments but fading fast. But even in his decline, he had never gone off the map like this. Not without reason.

"Missing?" I repeated, my voice hard. "How long?"

"Two days," Reaper replied. "Maybe longer. None of his usual contacts have seen him, and he's not answering any calls, not even from his sons. Looks like he's gone off the grid."

The knot in my stomach tightened. Something wasn't right. Sal might have been unpredictable, but he wouldn't vanish without a trace.

"Start the search," I ordered, my mind already racing through the possibilities. "Get everyone on it. I want to know where he is, and I want to know who's with him."

Reaper grunted in acknowledgment. "Understood, boss. I'll keep you updated."

I ended the call, but the sense of unease settled deeper. Sal going missing wasn't just a personal problem—it could signify a threat. The old man still had connections, alliances that ran deep. If something had happened to him, it could spark a war I wasn't ready for.

And yet, as much as I needed to deal with the situation, my thoughts kept pulling me back to Angel. My heart pounded in my chest, a sudden fear clawing at me. I had to get home. I had to make sure she and the kids were safe.

The drive back to the estate was a blur, my unease growing with every passing minute. I kept my eyes on the road, my mind spinning through the possibilities. If something had happened to Sal, if someone had gotten to him, it could mean danger for everyone connected to me. And that meant Liliana, Marco…and Angel.

By the time I approached the estate, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting the grounds in deep shadows. My gut twisted as I neared the front gate, a dark premonition settling over me. The guard stepped forward as I rolled down the window, his face tense, like he had seen a ghost.

"Mr. Barone, sir," he said, his voice uneasy. "Your uncle came by earlier. Said he wanted to pay you a visit. He's waiting for you in your office."

I froze. Salvatore? Here? My blood ran cold. That didn't make sense. If Sal had gone off the map, why would he show up here, unannounced?

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I forced a nod, keeping my voice steady. "Thanks. I'll handle it."

The guard stepped back, and I drove through the steel gates, my mind racing. If Sal was here, this wasn't just a visit. He wanted something—something more than just a conversation. And if he had gotten to my house without warning, without reaching out to me, it meant he wasn't playing by the old rules anymore.

I parked the car and hurried toward the front entrance, my senses on high alert. The house felt too quiet, the usual bustle of activity absent. Every step I took felt heavier, the sense of impending danger growing with each passing second.

As I neared the hallway that led to my office, my worst fears were confirmed. Milo, one of my most loyal men, lay slumped against the wall, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. Blood pooled beneath him, thick and dark. A single gunshot wound to the chest.

A silencer. Someone had shot him without a sound. No one had heard a thing.

I clenched my fists, fury and grief warring inside me. Milo had been with me for years. He wasn't just a soldier—he was family. And now he was dead, murdered in my own home.

Whoever had done this was still here. And they weren't finished.

I hurried toward my office, my pulse thundering in my ears. I felt my demon rising within me, and my hand itched for the gun at my side. I had to get to Angel and the children.

When I reached the door to my office, I kicked it open with a force I barely contained, ready for whatever waited on the other side.

And then I saw him.

Salvatore stood at the far end of the room, a gun in his hand, the barrel aimed directly at Angel. She stood in front of the children, her arms protectively spread wide, shielding them. Liliana and Marco crouched behind her, their faces pale with fear, their small bodies trembling.

Sal's eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth that had once filled them. His face, usually sharp and calculating, was twisted in something close to madness. The gun never wavered as he stared at Angel, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Everything inside me went cold.

"Sal," I growled, stepping into the room. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't even look at me. His focus was solely on Angel, his voice a low, menacing growl. "You think you can just take everything from me? You think you can just steal my empire out from under me? There's nothing wrong with me!"

I took a step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "Sal, put the gun down. You're not making sense. I've been head of the family for years now. You don't want to do this. We're blood, remember?"

His eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I saw something of the man he used to be—one who lived and breathed by the oath. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a bitterness that I couldn't ignore. "You took everything, Drago. But I can still take something from you."

His gaze shifted back to Angel and the kids, and my blood ran cold.

"Sal, don't," I said, my voice low and controlled, though every muscle in my body was ready to spring into action. "This isn't the way."

He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "It's the only way."

And with that, the tension in the room snapped.