Chapter 13 - The Execution
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The admission hung in the air, thick and poisonous. Silvio was a traitor, but he was a traitor emboldened by the highest authority in the underworld. The New York Commission had sanctioned the coup.
Aleandro didn't loosen his grip on his cousin's throat. His mind worked with terrifying speed, processing the strategic nightmare unfolding before him. If New York was involved, executing Silvio would mean open war with the five families.
"New York gave you permission to steal my cargo?" Aleandro asked softly, his face inches from Silvio’s turning purple visage.
"Yes," Silvio gasped, desperate to shift the blame. "They want the northern ports! They said if I took you out, they would make me the boss of the city! I didn't want to do it, Aleandro! They forced me!"
"You are a liar to your final breath," Aleandro said with profound disgust. "New York doesn't force anyone. You offered them my ports in exchange for a crown you were too weak to earn yourself."
Aleandro released his grip just enough for Silvio to drag a pathetic, ragged breath into his lungs.
"Please, cousin," Silvio wept, his pride completely shattered. "Spare me. Exile me. I will leave the country. I will disappear. Just don't kill me."
Aleandro stared down at the pathetic, weeping man. He thought of Elena, freezing and terrified in the dark, tied to a chair for four days while this coward drank expensive wine at his table. He thought of little Mia, sitting on the stairs, waiting for a mother who was never supposed to come home.
"I am sparing you," Aleandro whispered coldly. "I am sparing you the humiliation of standing trial before the men you betrayed."
Aleandro drew the heavy pistol from his shoulder holster with his free hand. He didn't hesitate. He pressed the barrel directly against Silvio’s chest.
"For Elena," Aleandro said.
The suppressed gunshot was no louder than a sharp clap of hands, but it echoed with absolute finality in the massive dining room. Silvio’s eyes widened in shock, then slowly rolled back as his body went limp on the ruined mahogany table.
Aleandro stood up, holstering his weapon. He didn't look back at the body. He walked to the dining room doors, unlocked them, and pulled them open.
Marco and Silas were waiting in the hallway.
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"Clean it up," Aleandro ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And call a meeting of the capos. We have a war to prepare for."
He walked away, leaving the corpse of his betrayer behind. He had sent a message in blood, and now, he had to ensure the innocent people in his house survived the fallout.
