Chapter 7 - The Verdict of Family
Z
Marco’s mind frantically tried to process the impossible reality standing in front of him. He looked at my calm demeanor, then at the massive puddles of fresh blood staining the concrete floor around my expensive Italian leather shoes. He finally noticed the dozens of bullet casings littering the ground. The realization hit him like a physical blow, buckling his knees.
“Silvio…” Marco choked out, backing away slowly, raising his pistol with a violently trembling hand. “Where is Silvio? Where is Lucchese’s crew?”
“They’re currently being loaded into fifty-gallon drums in the back room,” I said, my voice completely void of emotion. I took another step toward him. I was unarmed. I didn't need a gun. The absolute authority radiating from me was enough to crush his spirit. “They died the moment they walked through that door, Marco. Just like you died the moment you visited that hospital room yesterday.”
“Stay back!” Marco screamed, pointing the gun directly at my chest. “I’ll kill you! I swear to God, Tony, I’ll pull the trigger!”
“No, you won't,” I said quietly, continuing my slow, steady advance. “You don't have the stomach for it. You never did. You’re a coward, Marco. You wanted the throne, but you wanted someone else to do the bleeding for it. You used a helpless maid and a dying seven-year-old boy to do your dirty work. That is not how a boss operates. That is how a rat operates.”
“You left me no choice!” Marco shouted, tears of sheer panic streaming down his face. “You never let me lead! You treated me like a child! I am a Gallo! I deserve the empire just as much as you do!”
“You deserve nothing!” I roared, my voice echoing off the corrugated steel walls like thunder, making Marco flinch backward. “I built this empire on respect, fear, and loyalty! You tried to steal it with poison and proxy hitmen! You allied with our greatest enemy to kill your own blood!”
I was now standing mere inches from the barrel of his gun. I could see the sweat dripping off his nose. He was hyperventilating.
“Shoot me, Marco,” I whispered, staring directly into his terrified eyes. “If you want to be the boss, pull the trigger. Look me in the eye and take it.”
Marco sobbed, a pathetic, broken sound. His finger trembled on the trigger. He closed his eyes, let out a tortured cry, and dropped the gun to the floor. He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. Please. I’m your brother. Please forgive me.”
I stood over him, looking down at the man who shared my DNA. In our world, there was no forgiveness for this. The penalty for treason was absolute. If I let him live, I would look weak to the Commission. If I let him live, Lucchese would know I was soft.
But most importantly, if I let him live, I would never forget the image of Linda crying over Keo’s dying body because of this man's greed.
“I forgive you, Marco,” I said softly.
Marco looked up, a glimmer of desperate hope flashing in his tear-filled eyes. “You do? Tony… thank you. I swear, I’ll leave Chicago. You’ll never see me again—”
I raised my right hand slightly.
From the shadows, Enzo stepped forward. He didn't say a word. He simply raised his suppressed pistol and fired a single round into the back of Marco’s head.
Marco collapsed onto the cold concrete, dead before he even heard the shot.
I didn't blink. I didn't turn away. I stared at his lifeless body for a long moment, feeling an overwhelming, icy emptiness settle into my chest. I had just ordered the execution of my own brother. I had crossed a line from which there was no return. I was the undisputed king of Chicago now, but the crown had never felt heavier.
“Clean it up,” I told Enzo, my voice hoarse. “Burn the car. Dump him in the lake with the rest of Lucchese’s trash.”
“Yes, Boss,” Enzo said softly, a rare tone of genuine sympathy in his gruff voice.
I turned and walked out of the warehouse, stepping into the freezing fog of the Chicago morning. My satellite phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a secure text from the medical wing at my estate.
Keo is crashing. Vitals dropping. The doctor needs authorization to begin the experimental trial immediately.
May you like
I typed back a single word: Approved.
The war for the city was over. The war for a seven-year-old boy’s life was just beginning. I got into my SUV and ordered the driver to floor it back to the estate. I had destroyed my family tonight, but I was determined to save hers.
