“You gave up once, and I don’t advise you to do it again. Not if you truly want peace for Vita and Mila’s love once again. If you do, there won’t be a third chance for you, and Vita will be truly lost, forever.”
Rising from my chair, I return his hand to his lap, place the chair back by the door, and straighten my jacket.
“The people will get their peace, but you and Mila will get so much more. Have faith.”
Have faith? As a sixteen-year-old boy, I had faith. I had so much of it, I didn’t see any curveballs coming my way. It’s been hard these past ten years to keep my faith when nothing ever seems to work out.
On my way back to the house, my blood boils when I drive by the church where DiMarco is keeping himself safe and protected. It’s one thing for Camarco’s and Marocchi’s to fight amongst each other, but another family inching their way in is a different breed of taking the piss.
Bloodstains blemish the sidewalks and roads as I pull away from the church, looking forward to a day when joy fills the streets instead of death.
Cristian is sitting at my desk when I walk in, and jumps up to his feet.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands.
Instead of responding, I inform him, “I want to meet the Ghost. I don’t give a shit how he works, I want him here, standing in my office before me.”
“Y–You want the Ghost here?”
“Did I stutter? Make the call, and make it impossible for him not to show his face.”
Ever the loyal soldier, he picks up his phone from the desk and makes the call. Pouring myself a drink, I listen as he relays my message, and surprisingly, it doesn’t take as much persuasion as I thought it would.
Hanging up, he tosses his phone back on the desk, asking, “Why do you want the Ghost here?”
“It’s about time I know who he is, and I want him to find a way into the church to kill DiMarco.”
There are plenty of tunnels leading inside, and we’re going to use them to our advantage.
“And get Mila here.”
Remembering the way I left her, I add, “Tell her, if she wants to keep her precious church intact, she’ll do well not to keep me waiting.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jamila
The floor plans for the tunnels running underneath the church are laid out across my desk as Trey’s phone rings. Taking the call, his mood immediately sours.
“Put it on speaker,” I instruct.
Cristian’s voice filters through the receiver before Trey informs him, “You’re on speaker. You can tell her yourself.”
“Mila?”
“I’m here. What do you want?”
The line is silent for a second. “Raphael expects you at the house as soon as you can get here.”
“Does he now?” I mutter. “Tell him I’m busy at the moment.”
“You should get here. He has a plan, and if you want to have your say in how to save the church, you shouldn’t waste any time.”
Ending the call, I slam my palm down against the table.
“You’re letting him order you around now?” Trey murmurs and I turn on him.
“You forget your place once again.”
“I forget nothing. He bent the knee to you. You should’ve put him in his place weeks ago.”
“And what place is that?”
He shrugs. “Not at your side, that’s for sure, and definitely not in your bed.”
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. I need every man at my side right now, so I bite my tongue.
“I’m not explaining myself again, Trey. Grab the plans, and if you can keep your opinions to yourself, join me in the car.”
I don’t wait around for his answer, knowing he’ll follow.
In the confines of the car, I welcome the stuffy warmth and lean my head against the headrest.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m reminded of my dream. It should be no surprise that Raphael and I will have to pay the price for peace. Our family’s karma has been building for two hundred years, and with it, an overbearing level of pride to be the most powerful.
Trey, sliding into the back seat, slams the door shut, and the driver pulls away from the house.
“All I was trying to say is, you shouldn’t let Raphael bark orders at you. If people don’t see you asserting your command over him, it’ll confuse them, and loyalties will be questioned.”