Taken_ A Dark Mafia Romance - Piper Stone Page 0,8

was the truth, including talking to my mother. It would destroy her if she realized I’d been told.

At least the arbitrary rituals, including use of the Box, had been questioned, the majority tossed out.

Both Christian and I had been thrilled to throw out the ridiculous concept. Daughters within the community required to open a locked wooden box on their twenty-fourth birthday, the unknown contents placed inside on the day of their christening. While various promises had been made over the years, Christian and I had realized the entire process had been orchestrated. The Box contained whatever the Council had wanted. Whether money, land, stocks from an outside company or the hand in marriage of an eligible bachelor from within the sect or on rare occasion to an outsider, everything had been planned. The ritual was sacred, a beautiful hallowed experience that so many adored.

Fuck that shit. It was sick and twisted.

Thank God the ritual had been banned.

Or had it?

My instincts were kicking in, my brother’s attitude questionable. “Meaning?” I asked, studying him intently. The hesitation before he answered raised my hackles.

“Every one of the three remaining families refuses to take the honored position unless use of the Box is brought back,” he stated as if the concept was no big deal.

I snorted, waiting for the punchline. “You are kidding me.”

“I wish I were. As you might imagine, the unrest is getting difficult to manage. The Council had to make difficult changes. You know what’s at stake.”

If I had to read between the lines, I’d say my brother meant there’d been recent threats to expose the community for what we really were, including the lengths that had been used in order to secure positions in the upper echelon of society. That couldn’t happen. We would all be ruined.

“Who is making the threats? The Don of the Taglionis?” I asked casually, studying him as I took a swig of my scotch.

“Maybe the question is who hasn’t threatened our way of life, although there is some pressure being placed on certain government officials by the Taglionis. I am concerned they are prepared to make a move. Let me worry about that.” He lifted a single eyebrow, obviously not predisposed to discussing at this point; however, I could tell he’d lost sleep over whatever duress he’d been placed under.

“All right. Have it your way. Then what are you going to do?” I asked, another instinct kicking in. He didn’t come here looking for my advice. This was nothing more than a formality. Decisions had already been made. Anger swelled from deep within me, the kind that hadn’t surfaced in months.

“The Council approved returning to the ritual. That won’t solve every concern, but it will certainly go a long way in advancing our future.”

I allowed the information to sink in. While the decision must have been hard on my brother, I thought he was stronger than to fall prey to the old ways. I also didn’t think the remaining two Council members had a set of balls. I guess I was wrong.

“Wait a minute. I thought the Boxes had been destroyed.” Although they could have easily been recreated, the thought sickened me. When he didn’t say anything, I slammed my glass on the table, the fury erupting. He’d been keeping this secret from me for some time. “You lied to me, Christian.”

“It’s my duty to maintain our way of life. You know as well as I do what’s at stake for two hundred and twenty-two families. I made a choice to secure the Boxes in a secret location, but yes, I kept them. I had to.”

“Had to? That’s bullshit and you know it. You wanted them burned. You.”

Christian looked uncomfortable, which told me that he was hiding more than just an ugly lie. I was finished with being kept in the dark.

“My God. More secrets, Christian. You’re a fucking bastard. I didn’t realize during this last few months that you turned into one of them.” Like father, like son. The thought left a bad taste in my mouth. Was I any better?

“We are two of a kind, brother. Don’t kid yourself. You have no issue enjoying the fruits of our father’s labor. Cars. Boats. That expensive house you live in. Where the fuck do you think they came from?” He lifted his glass, daring me to say otherwise.

“You’re right. We are alike, dear brother. Damned.” To his credit, after the pact made between Christian, his wife, and me on the day of Father McGivney’s deathbed