Chapter 590: I Am Handling It
The car came to an instant halt by the curb, tyres scraping hard against the road. A horn blared behind them, followed by an angry shout from a driver.
Luca turned to his father. "He had nothing to do with this."
"That will be left for me to decide."
"No." Luca’s voice dropped. "No, it is not." Luca knew what he had done. A son did not speak to his father with such insolence much more a Don. Not in their world.
But Marco was family. Marco was his brother in every way that mattered.
Massimo leaned back slowly. "I was wondering why your mother was ignoring my calls. Sending me texts instead like a child! She knew about this too," he said accusingly.
"Would you please stop?" Luca snapped and dragged a hand over his mouth. "If he had anything to do with this," Luca said, forcing each word out, "do you think I would still protect him? Marco has done nothing...Nothing at all."
"Then tell me exactly what the fuck is happening."
Luca’s hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles paled. He could not.
Not yet.
If he said too much, Massimo would move. If Massimo moved, no one would stop him.
"I am handling it," Luca said.
"Tell me what exactly the fuck is happening, or I will have Marco here in a heartbeat and blow his goddamned brains off."
"Don, There is no way you do not know that Marco is incapable of betrayal."
"So why is he hiding under your mother’s skirts."
"Because I asked him to leave New York until I found a way out of this," Luca snapped. "Because I know you. You would not bend the rules for any reason."
"If Marco is not betraying you," Massimo said at last, his voice dangerously even, "then who is? And why would Marco be involved?"
"Don," Luca said, forcing his voice down. "I beg you, let me handle this myself."
Massimo’s eyes narrowed. "Is it your mother?"
"What?" Luca recoiled. "Are you out of your mind?"
Massimo looked away for a second, as if putting pieces together. "No. Carol is many things. Flaky, even. But she would rather die," Massimo turned back to him. "Valentina..."
The word was finally out. Luca held his father’s stare and said nothing. Massimo saw enough in his face.
"Valentina is behind this, isn’t she?" he asked. "You knew beforehand. You let it get worse. For what?"
"I am protecting my family! Something you never knew how to do," Luca added.
"Your family," Massimo said, "is the famiglia. Your strength should be for the famiglia. Your resolve should be for the famiglia."
"My strength is for my wife. My daughter. My brother. The people whose names are not just written into command chains."
"You think those are separate things because you have gone soft."
Luca laughed, but there was nothing amused in it. "Soft?"
"Yes. Soft. Spoiled by love. Distracted by it. Weakened! Your own son betrays you, you put a goddamned gun to his head and pull the fucking trigger, you fucking cunt. Is this who I raised you to be?"
"You mean I should be you?" Luca snapped.
"Yes," Massimo shouted. "Yes! God fucking damn it!"
"You know, I am so fucking glad who you are is not my future," Luca said quietly. "I look at you now and I see a man with no one by him. I do not envy you."
"You think love saves you from consequences?" Massimo asked. "Will all these sweet little words hold this world together when men smell weakness? You think the rules exist because I enjoyed being cruel? Give the order to bring Marco back to New York," Massimo said, each word carved from ice, "and you are going to put a fucking bullet in his head yourself. And I want his wife before the night is over!"
"Don’t do this," Luca said, shaking his head.
The fury was still in his voice, still burning beneath every word, but fear had come through it now.
"Dad," Luca said, "Please. For me. For Mum. She’ll never forgive you for this."
Massimo’s face remained hard. "I would rather you keep the respect of the famiglia...Your mother’s heart will mend."
Luca stared at him as if Massimo had just said something obscene. "No...No, it won’t. Don’t do this to her. I beg you. Marco is... he is her life and I owe him my life."
"You are not ten years old anymore. The moment you show one weakness, just one, every single person, every mafioso, loses respect for you," Massimo said. "That is not happening. One punishment keeps a hundred others in line. I taught you that! I drilled it into your bones!"
"Marco did not betray me." Luca turned towards him fully. "I’ll give you anything."
"Give the fucking order." Massimo leaned closer. "Give the order, Luciano. Do not test me. You disobey me, you know what happens," he growled out, and the words were no longer father to son. They were Don to heir. Law to blood.
Luca swallowed hard. "Can I deal with my wife first?"
"Fine," Massimo said. "But I want both traitors within arm’s reach in the next forty-eight hours."
Luca didn’t like the label.
Both traitors.
One innocent of betrayal, one guilty beyond rescue, both now standing beneath the same shadow because the rules had no interest in emotional nuance.
Luca exhaled, started the car once more, and drove away.
*****
Marco slipped his travel documents into his back pocket and checked the room once more. He was getting ready to leave for New York.
Luca had sent him a message in the dead of the night. Apparently shit had hit the fan and Luca wanted him to stay put, no matter what Don says.
He was not a man to cower. He had been gone long enough. Marco had never been built for hiding. He had been built for standing beside Luca when things went to hell, which they often did because the Genovese family attracted disaster. He had been built for holding the line, taking the hit, putting himself between danger and the people who mattered. If this was how it ended, then so be it.