Reign of Pride

by A. G. Kirkham

  I call my father along the way and let him know what’s happening. He sets the wheels in motion to expand the search if necessary. I arrive home to see Luciano and Livio carrying Dario whose dripping blood leaves a stain across my driveway.

  “Gunshot wound to the shoulder and one to the gut. He’s lost a lot of blood,” Livio says.

  A moan escapes Dario. “Fel… Felicia.”

  “Where is she?” I ask urgently, at this point I don’t care that they see my raw need to know the whereabouts of my wife.

  “Sal took…” he sputters. “Thinks I’m dead.” He moans as Luciano puts pressure on his wounds. “Amate knows. Highway out of town.” He grabs my jacket. “She fought.” He passes out cold. I make a call to my father, and he sets all the men on alert except Amate’s men. My uncle is in for a world of pain when I get my hands on him. His is either part of this kidnapping or totally inept as leader.

  My heart drops. I ask Luciano to take me to where they’d found him. With each passing moment, I realize that I have fallen in love with my wife. Desperation is starting to ensue. The memory of our morning together, with her smiling across the table and linking her fingers with mine. While telling me how glad she is to be sitting with me.

  “Where the fuck is she, Luciano? What if they hurt her? What if they torture her?”

  “Felicia is resourceful and smart. She knows we’re looking for her, she’ll hold out for us,” he reassures me. Problem is that Amate and Sal know we are looking too.

  I look at the blood on the ground and see an earring in the dirt. Felicia’s. I grip it in my fist as I fall to my knees and roar in pain and frustration. I’ve failed her. It’s my job to protect my wife and I’ve failed.

  Luciano gives me a minute before yanking me to my feet. “We’ll follow the trail. Get up, Nero. We find the trail, we find her.”

  Felicia

  I am rattled awake by the car jolting over potholes in the road. My head aches and when, I move my head, I feel something oozing down my face. My hands are bound. I force my eyes open. I must be dreaming. I blink to force the haze out of my mind and refocus. Zio Amate is in the front seat next to a husky man.

  “She’s awake,” the guy says.

  “Fuck, I was hoping we could drop her off without her seeing me,” he exclaims, not even acknowledging my presence.

  “Doesn’t matter. When they’re done with her, she won’t be able to say your name,” says the slimeball.

  I start looking around and make an attempt to open the door. I would prefer taking my chances rolling out of a moving car then what they have in store for me.

  “Sorry, Felicia, that won’t work,” Zio Amate states, barely acknowledging my presence.

  “Why? What did I do to you?” I probe, the throbbing in my head getting worse.

  “You’re a casualty of war. It’s time for a change in La Famiglia. If Nero can’t control his men and they end up shooting each other, and then he loses his wife to a rival family, the men won’t follow him as a leader and Marco Moretti will be forced to give the title to someone else. Someone who’s capable. I will petition the underbosses and I will win,” Amate says. “I bet your Nero is losing his mind right about now. He’s going to lose his mind and his wife. He will not be able to control his emotions and they will see him as the immature and incapable man that he is. Not a chance he will be the Don our Famiglia needs.”

  “He will come for me,” I vow.

  “I hope he does. Then they will kill you both and I won’t have to endure any other problems.”

  He turns his back to me while his sidekick sneers at me in the rear-view mirror. We drive for at least another hour before heading down a dirt road to a secluded building. It looks abandoned but that doesn’t stop the slimeball from hauling me out of the car. He grabs my hands and leads me like cattle to slaughter while Amate leads the way into the building.

  We are met by three men. Three lethal, hard, gorgeous men. Two of them are blond with blue eyes. The one in the centre has wavy chestnut hair and smoke gray eyes. All extremely large, not fat, but very big. They could crush me in an instant, but I refuse to cower. I am a Moretti; I will not weep or beg for mercy.

  I straighten my shoulders and walk with purpose. I keep my eyes forward and chin held high.

  “I have delivered my part of the deal,” Amate declares. He pulls me forward by my hands and throws me toward them. I stumble into one on the big guys, who grabs me before I hit the ground.

  “I can see that,” says one of the other guys.

  “You remember our deal. You do whatever you want with her, then you send her to Nero in pieces. Fuck her, whore her out, whatever, just make sure that when she speaks her last words to Nero, he knows that she has suffered,” he says.

  I cringe at his words. I have heard what happens to women caught between feuding families.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Amate. I’m the Don of the Viale family; I shall do what I want with her with no commands from you.” He looks me up and down. “You brought me battered goods. Is this how you present a gift?”

  “She put up a fight. We had to restrain her,” the slimeball says.

  The Don turns his attention to one of the men behind him. “Sebastian, take Mrs. Moretti to the waiting room.”

  I don’t want to go with him, but my options are limited. I could make an attempt to fight, but that’s only going to make me—and, therefore, my family—weak. I’m no match for these guys and there are too many of them. I’m just going to have to brazen it out and hope Nero finds me before it’s too late. But I will make him proud no matter what my fate.

  I stand up and roll my shoulders back then follow Sebastian, masking my terror when the other guy falls into rank behind me.

  Entering the room, I expect a dungeon, but, instead, I find a sitting room with a two-seater sofa, an armchair, and a tiny table. There is even a vase with lilacs.

  “If you’ll hold out your hands, Mrs. Moretti, I will cut the binds,” Sebastian expresses.

  I hold out my hands. Having them free might give me some advantage and, at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.

  “Take a seat. Don Moreno will be in as soon as he’s gotten rid of those two,” the other guy says.

  I sit down, shaking slightly. I am utterly confused by the entire situation. Are they lulling me into a state of hope before they begin the torture? I sit on the edge of the sofa, eyeing them through lowered lashes. My head is pounding. I close my eyes to block the light in the room.

  The door opens and Don Moreno strides in. He takes the chair opposite me.

  “Mrs. Moretti, your head needs stitches. I would like to have our doctor take a look at you. Will you agree to see him?” he asks.

  “Are you going to help me so you can tear me apart later?” I ask quietly. My stomach is queasy, my hands tremble. I hold them together tightly to keep them steady. I am anxious, afraid, terrified, yet his soothing voice seems to hold a hint of promise.

  “Mrs. Moretti, my name is Moreno Viale; I prefer to be referred to as Reno. I am the head of the Viale family, and I run Ohio and Michigan. As I am sure you already know, our families have been rivals for a very long time. I rule these cities and your husband will someday rule Pennsylvania. I’m going to call your husband in a moment with you present. I want to ensure him of your well-being in our care and I want you to be comfortable while you are with us. I have no intention of hurting you,” Moreno retorts.

  “Rivals,” I whisper. These families have been at war for as long as I can remember.

  “Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?” he states. “Now, can I call the doctor to tend to you?”

  “Okay.” I nod.

  Moreno nods to his brother, having him leave the room to, I presume, to make arrangements for the doctor. At the same time Moreno takes out his phone and dials, then places the phone on speaker and places it on the table between us.

  Nero answers. “Now is not the time, Viale—”

&nb
sp; “I received a gift today, Nero. One that belongs to you and I would like to return it,” Moreno interjects.

  A deafening silence before Nero breathes out, “Felicia.”

  Moreno raises an eyebrow at me. “Mrs. Moretti, will you please tell your husband you are well?”

  “Nero, I’m here. I am okay. Well, mostly,” I inform him.

  “If you touch my wife, Viale—”

  “I would stop there, Nero. Your wife’s injuries did not come from me. I am having a doctor come to look at her while you make your way here to pick her up,” he responds to Nero.

  “If you want to kill me, then, fine, but you let Felicia go when I arrive,” Nero answers.

  “I do not want to kill anyone today. What I would like is a discussion with you and your father. I would like for Marco, yourself and I assume, Luciano, your righthand, to come to Ohio. I would like to revisit the truce that went awry many years ago. For your time, I will return your wife in better shape than she arrived, along with a list of the traitors in your family,” Moreno explains.

  “Why should I believe you?” Nero says.

  “Because I’m offering you the opportunity to set things right. If you choose not to come, I will drive your wife to the border and you can pick her up, however this will be the last kindness I will show your family. From that moment on, I will do as I please and take over your city when the opportunity presents itself,” Moreno reveals.

  “I need to speak to my father,” Nero replies.

  I swallow. “Nero, I want to tell you—”

  “Dolce, you tell me when you see me. I am coming for you,” Nero avows. “Moreno, I will call you from my car for further details.” He pauses before continuing, “Be strong for me, Felicia.”

  “I am a Moretti, of course I am strong,” I declare, in an effort to reassure him and maybe myself. I want to tell him I love him. I want him to know that he has made me happy and that if anything were to happen, I want him to know that I have fallen in love with my husband.

  Moreno ends the call then stands. “I can get you some tea if you like. The doctor will be in in a few minutes. Dante will keep you company while I make arrangements.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Viale, I would like some tea,” I state graciously.

  “Reno, please,” he replies.

  “Felicia, please,” I counter and give a little smile.

  He quirks his lip upward in a small smile. “All right, Felicia. Some tea, the doctor, and we’ll get you home,” he replies while walking out the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Marriage Truce

  Moreno

  * * *

  In the years gone by, my father had remained firm in his decision to ignore the attempts made by Marco Moretti to correct his grave mistake. Marco’s family had been attacked and, due to the tenuous nature of their newly founded relationship, the Viale clan was accused, enraging my father beyond reason.

  But then, my father was an asshole anyway—at best. A shitty father and an even shittier husband. His greatest accomplishment was his reign of the family. And that’d been brought to an end a little over a year ago in an accident that claimed both my father and my wife.

  I am a thirty-five-year-old widower and the youngest Don the family has ever had. My men have been loyal through the pains of change. However, there are rumors, and because of them, I should be married because, a man needs to have an heir. The future of the family is based on our long-lasting traditions and having an heir is one of those traditions. I was able to avoid this topic based on the sudden loss of my wife and the appropriate grieving period of a year. The time is up, and I need to remarry.

  After having every district leader with an eligible daughter approach, subtly tossing the idea of marriage to me, I made the decision to not marry from within the family, thereby preventing any of my leaders from expecting special treatment. The idea to become a better Don, and a better man. Opposite from my father, I want to be so different that one would actually question my parentage. This has been my only goal from the time I was a small child. I saw my father beat the innocent just for kicks. He’d raped young women and sold them like cattle. He was into peddling flesh. I hated it, taking someone’s freedom without cause. We still run whorehouses, but these are women who to come to us to be safe from their pimps. We run a clean environment and we make sure the women are as safe as we can make them.

  I’m no saint. Far from. I have slaughtered many a man without remorse. Men who dared attack my family. Men who dared to think they could infiltrate our bonds and report back to the enemy. I have been attacked so often that I wear the scars to prove my dedication. Many are scars from my own father for speaking my mind. He’s had me cut, beaten, and tortured to near death—for my own good, apparently.

  Giovanni Viale was an arrogant bastard who refused to see reason and took on too many adversaries instead of creating lucrative peace between the viable families. Creating alliances to ensure the safe passing of product, saving both parties time and money. He was an arrogant ass, and I can’t say I mourn his death. I rule and my brothers are my most trusted underbosses. Dante and Sebastian are my twin brothers. One is the head of my arms’ business, the other the casino and entertainment.

  I investigated the families who reign, and the best option is still the Moretti Famiglia. Let’s see if Marco and Nero Moretti are open to a truce.

  I wait at the table by the warehouse doors. I leave them open so I can watch for them to arrive. It may seem that I’m giving away too much for this truce, however, I feel that a woman should not pay for the bad decisions of a trusted family member. I also believe that Nero will be more amenable, knowing we are respecting his family from the get-go.

  A black Mercedes approaches the drive. Luciano is the first to step out, followed by Nero. Luciano spots my brother Dante on the roof immediately. I want a truce, but I am not stupid; I have little trust—and trust needs to be earned. Nero opens the back door and the mighty Marco Moretti emerges. I stand to greet them, then walk to the edge of the platform.

  “Welcome.” I open my arms inviting them into my place. “I think we will not be foolish. I will not expect you to lay out your guns. We all know that you have concealed weapons anyway. I will firmly state that I have no intention of this becoming a bloody mess and at this time. I suggest you lower your weapons,” I utter. “Please follow me. I have arranged for our talk to be here in the open.” I gesture to the table with six chairs, three on either side. I call out to my brothers, “Dante, Sebastian come join us.”

  Luciano lowers his weapon with Marco’s nod. I wait for Marco to sit, as a sign of respect for the elder Don, then I sit, followed by Nero, my brothers, and, finally, Luciano.

  “Before we start, I want to let you know that Felicia is in that room to your right, resting. She came to me with a cut on her head and scrapes on her hands and knees. I have had my doctor tend to her and he gave her something for the pain. He believes she is suffering a minor concussion. I suggest that you keep a close eye on her when you leave here,” I reassure Nero.

  Nero looks at the door where Felicia is housed. He looks so tense that he might snap in two. He also knows that he is on enemy territory and not to make any stupid rash decisions.

  “We thank you for your kindness, Don Viale,” Marco verbalizes eloquently.

  “Please I prefer to be called Reno, my father was Viale,” I tell him, wanting to be distanced from his memory. “Let me get to the point as I am sure that Nero would like to see his wife.”

  “That would be great,” Nero says tightly.

  I give him credit. He is showing an incredible amount of control.

  “Right. When the truce fell between the two families, my father was upset and refused to renegotiate. I would like to revisit the possibility of another truce. And since I don’t like to mince words, I will lay it all out on the table and ask that you do the same.”

  Father and son lift their brows with curiosity.

  “Our Famiglia
is strong in loyalty,” Marco exclaims.

  “On the surface, yes.” I lift an envelope I had previously placed on the table. “Here is a list of your traitors. Some make sense to me, however, there are two who will change your family.” I turn to Nero. “Your wife’s abduction came from these people.” I tap the envelope. “They asked me to have your wife raped, then whored out on my streets until she was bloody. Then, I was to have her call you, pleading for death. And, lastly, have her returned to you in pieces.”

  Nero’s eyes narrow, rage emanating from every pore of his body. His fists clench.

  I continue, “This was to be a lesson to you, Nero, that you did not have your men under control.” I turn to Marco. “And to you that you do not have a son strong enough to lead La Famiglia.”

  “They came to you?” Marco quirks his brow.

  “They came to my casino and met Dante first. Later we met in private and he disclosed his plan. We have a tape of the entire conversation. I will gladly send you a copy electronically and then by messenger.”

  “What would this truce include?” Marco extends his hands, showing his openness for talk.

  “You shall, of course, take Felicia home. I would like safe passage for my product through Pennsylvania, for which I’d pay you two percent. I offer the same if you would like to transport through my states,” I inform him.

  “This is doable.” Marco nods once in agreement.

  “Based on this list, you are going to have a lot of cleanup to do. I also know that the Russians are going to take advantage of your restructuring,” I report.

  “We can handle it,” Nero says.

  “Yes, you can. However, we can assist in keeping the status quo as you rebuild if, in return, you stay out of my fight with the Gauza Famiglia. This means that you will not have any business relations with them moving forward,” I explained.

  “We don’t do business with Gauza,” Marco vows firmly.

  “At present, no. But they will see your restructuring as an opportunity for men and passage to attack my turf. I would not take kindly to that happening,” I state.