Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

It’s just the three of us now. Riccardo takes his chair. I walk back to mine.

“Back to business,” Pa says with a well-earned smug smile.

We’re not finished with Riccardo yet. Taking Emelia was just the first act. This plan of ours was well thought out. It’s what you call the true art of war—knowing when to get your enemy exactly where you want him to be and striking not at the point where he’s injured, but when you know he walks the line between life and death and only a miracle will save him. That is where Riccardo is right now, and the fucker knows it.

“You can’t just take my voting rights,” Riccardo says, trying to keep his tone under control. “They are what tie me to the syndicate. What kind of member would I be without my rights to vote and make decisions?”

“That is not my concern. I want your voting rights, or the deal is off,” Pa answers.

My father is here with me to secure the very last thing this asshole owns: His voting rights in the syndicate, the Brotherhood. Like Riccardo, my father is one of the Syndicate leaders. Voting rights equal power and control. They give control and take away control. This is my father’s final act as boss. His final gift to me before he hands over the D’Agostino empire.

Our demand for Riccardo’s voting right was the shocker we dealt just before Emelia walked in. It was why he behaved the way he did with her. Shock and desperation consumed him. Shock that we had so much power and discovered his secrets. Desperation from being wedged in a corner.

We came here to kill him for the money he owes. Or offer him a way out that would equally destroy his ass. The offer was this: his beloved daughter and the new set of luxury apartments he bought at the start of the year for the debt, plus his voting rights in exchange for our silence on his crimes to the Syndicate from breaking the creed.

“You will give it to me, or I won’t hesitate to inform the the Brotherhood of your gross errors. I doubt you want that on your hands.”

Terror makes beads of sweat form on Riccardo’s upper lip. Bastardo. He’s an idiot for thinking we, of all people, will let him reason with us. He’s lucky. That’s what he is. Lucky that we only want to destroy him instead of just killing his ass. The motherfucker did the one thing you shouldn’t do in our world: underestimate. He never thought anybody would discover his secret that he’s on the edge of being broke. And that he’s a thief.

“You are loving this, aren’t you?” Riccardo sneers.

“Yes, I am,” Pa answers, short, sweet, and succinct, knowing that Riccardo doesn’t want the Syndicate on his ass. I bite back a grin as I watch a smile of victory dance across my father’s lips.

He thought he was untouchable, but everybody loses sometimes. That’s what happened to him. He took a big gamble when he started working with Cartel members and playing with syndicate money. He lost it all and had to turn to us for help. Us, his enemies. He came to us because he knew he couldn’t go to anybody else. Maybe he thought he could prey on the lost friendship he and my father once shared. Then the worst thing happened to him when he couldn’t pay us back. I knew that would happen though. He played right into the trap.

“Giacomo, you took my daughter,” Riccardo reminds Pa.

“We’re not going over this again, Riccardo,” Pa answers, mimicking his tone.

“It’s a serious matter.”

“This is not up for discussion,” Pa adds, cutting through the tense silence that’s become so thick in the air it feels tangible. Like I could take out my pocketknife and cut through it.

“I don’t see how you think it’s right to do this to me.”

“I don’t care what you think is right or wrong. This is the way it’s going to be. Decide now. We don’t have all fucking night. Shall I make the call now to the Brotherhood? Or will you be handing me what I ask?”

Riccardo stares back, fury brimming in his eyes along with fear.

Apart from us, the Brotherhood of the Syndicate is made up of two other powerful Italian crime families and two Bratva families. They will not be pleased to hear how Riccardo has been benefitting from their investments for the last ten years and how much he’s stole.

He knows they’ll kill him. They’ll deal death exactly the way he threatened at my mother’s funeral. It would start with him, then they’d kill his daughter, his family and friends. Everyone he knows.

The Syndicate is a secret society of crime families set up to protect wealth and allow its members to flourish in more wealth. Cross them and break the creed, and it means death to all you know. There is no way out.

This selfish fucker, however, is just worried about himself. I know it. He knows we’ll kill him too, and we’d be able to without retaliation for all he’s done.

Death, however, is too good for him. He did exactly what we wanted. We wanted to watch the asshole fall and crumble. To see his face as he loses everything. It’s interesting though. I thought his daughter might have been his one good thing, but she isn’t. Riccardo Balesteri values his money and power. The one good thing in his life was his voting rights in the syndicate. The man makes me sick. He’s more aggrieved to lose that than selling his daughter.

“What’s it going to be, Riccardo?” Pa asks and holds out another contract to him. That one would have the same wording as the one Emelia signed. But it needs to be signed in blood.

“You bastard. You had to take everything,” Ricardo says and looks from Pa to me.

I’ve sat back and minded my place, allowing my father to talk. It’s my turn now.

“Be fucking grateful we left you with the roof over your head and the clothes on your back,” I answer, and he cuts me a sharp glance.

He won’t say anything to me. I can tell he’s still shaken from the way I grabbed his hand earlier. I was going to break it. Payback for the stunt he pulled on me at Ma’s funeral. I would have made payback the sure bitch she is and break his fucking hand in several places. I’ve been waiting for a long time to find a way to get him, and while I’ve seen this man several times since my mother’s funeral, I’ve held back.