35. Simon

Ideadbolt every door and make sure all the windows are locked, but the whole exercise feels fucking surreal. Emily flutters after me, wringing her hands, looking worried, and I have to pull her into my arms and tell her everything's going to be okay. She believes me; that makes me fall for her even more than I already am.

Dad's going too far. It's one thing to be pissed and to punish me for disobeying him, and it's another to cross this line. Evicting me from the oasis is tantamount to throwing me from the Famiglia, but nobody gets kicked out, not alive anyway. I know far too much to release into the wild.

It makes no fucking sense. But lately, Dad's been unhinged and in pain, and I suspect he's taking more medication than he's letting on to manage everything. Which means not only is he pushing himself past his limits, but he might be abusing opiates on top of all this fucking stuff, compromising his decision-making even further.

I put Emily in our room and tell her not to move, and she agrees after I kiss her and promise I'll handle it. Then I pace around the living room making calls. I reach out to loyal soldiers and lieutenants and let them know what's happening. I have to warn them in case Dad decides this isn't only directed at me, but anyone associated with me—if he turns this into a purge, my people are in trouble. I start consolidating my forces, getting a roll call of everyone I can rely on, and it's not enough, not fucking enough, because I haven't had enough time.

There are a few Capos that will back me. They're the top line of the Famiglia's forces, a step below the core Bianco family, but important in their own right. They control the ground forces and run the territories and take orders from us, and if I can sway more of them to my side than Dad can, this little problem will resolve itself very quickly. Our power rests on the shoulders of the men that believe in us, and the second they decide we're no longer worth following, the whole operation crumbles.

But I don't have enough. Dad's been in control of the Famiglia for a very long time and he chose these Capos because they're fiercely loyal to him. Some know what he's going through and can see that it's time for him to step aside, but most still think of Don Alessandro Bianco as the iron-fisted warrior that put the Famiglia on top of Chicago.

"This has to be some fucking joke," Davide says when I finally reach out to him. "I don't understand what Dad's fucking thinking."

I want to say I don't either but it's not entirely true. "He knows I've been talking to the Capos about him. He thinks I'm trying to stage a coup."

I haven't said that out loud yet, not even to Angelo when I visited him in prison, but a coup has been on my mind ever since Dad tried to make me marry Luciano Santoro's daughter. He's too far gone to reason with, and if I can forcibly remove him from power, ideally without any bloodshed, then I'll do it for his sake and for the entire Famiglia. I don't want to do it, not even a little bit, but it's one of my options.

Davide curses and I can hear him saying something muffled to Stefania in the background. Then he comes back on the line. "Stef says there are guys amassing in the street outside your house. She's looking out the window right now."

I run to the front of the house and peek out. I move the curtain barely an inch, just enough to spot a cluster of soldiers I don't recognize getting together in the street on the other side of the parked cars. I know every single guard that covers our family intimately—I'm good friends with most of them—and these are totally different men.

"He's really doing this," I say, still not prepared to believe that Dad's making his move. I find it difficult to understand how the situation devolved to this nightmare so quickly, but I can't deny what's going on.

"You have to get out," Davide growls at me. "Get over to my place. I already have Emilio gathering up some of my guys."

"What the fuck's that going to do? You're going to start shooting our own people?"

"Better than letting them take you." Davide's deadly serious. If there's anyone in the Famiglia who can win a fight outnumbered and outgunned, it's him, but I really don't want this to come to that.

"Maybe I can reason with him." I close my eyes and start pacing again, back sweating. "He has to know how this is going to look."

"Dad's not thinking. He's off his fucking rocker right now. Get the hell out of that house and get over here right now if you want to live through this."

I grind my jaw. "I'm not starting a war, damn it."

"Then don't do it for yourself. Do it for your pretty wife. Did you stop to think that maybe those guys out there aren't coming for you? Maybe they're coming for Emily, and once she's gone, Dad can force you to marry Uncle Santoro's daughter?"

My entire body goes cold. I hadn't considered it, but fuck, he's right, that's a real possibility. Dad's irrational enough right now to think that might be a reasonable option—that I might actually go along with it.

"I'm going out the back and over the fences. I'll be there soon."

"Good luck, brother."

I hang up and shove my phone into my pocket before racing upstairs. "Grab some things," I say, ripping a duffel from the closet and shoving fistfuls of clothes inside. I'm taking things that are random. "We're leaving."

"Simon?" Emily looks terrified. She's pale and shaking as I pull her to her feet and get her moving. "What's going on?"

"We're running. Take the necessities, we'll buy anything you need later. Do you hear me? We have to get out right now."

She stares at me, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling, and I press my lips to hers and kiss her hard, almost knocking our teeth together, and I hold her against me for a brief second. That seems to snap her into motion, and when I let her go, she flies to the dresser and adds more random clothes to my bag.

Ten seconds later, we're sprinting down the steps. I steer her to the back door, a finger to my lips, and I open it as quietly as I can. We slip into the back yard and pause at the edge of the house.

I hear voices from the street. They're closer now. Boots on my porch steps. I usher Emily over to the tall, wooden privacy fence we had installed a few years back, and suddenly it doesn't seem like such a good idea. I motion for her to be quiet before making a basket of my hands to boost her up. She takes a deep breath, puts her foot down, and I hoist her to the top. She grips the edge, scrambles a bit, then she slips over and away.

I tighten the strap of the duffel across my chest, take a few steps back, and pause.

The sound of the front door smashing open cracks the stillness of the afternoon.

That's the sound of Dad going too far. That's the sound of my life changing.

That's the sound of the whole Famiglia splitting in half.

I sprint at the fence and jump.