In the end, Ettore Cuccia had been merely a short, round, weakening old man. His violent obsession with keeping the Americans in line had been rooted in fear—of his own power waning, his star fading. He was a don without living sons, or daughters, for that matter. Or any blood kin at all. His legacy would have died with him whether Nick had intervened or not, and he’d been clinging as long and hard as he could to the world he’d made.
Standing over his body last night, Nick had been struck by the anticlimax of it all. Elisa was still dead, he could never have her back, never make right his failings with her, never feel her love again. She would never become a doctor, never overcome her fears and worries to find love or achieve her dreams.
Nick could drop a nuke into the mouth of Mt. Etna and wipe Sicily off the map, and that still couldn’t balance the loss of one daughter.
But now he had peace.
The Americans and the Sicilians were negotiating new partnerships, building new alliances on foundations stronger than tradition. They’d started talks even before Nick had drawn Cuccia to the States on the pretense of supplicating for peace, and in the hours since he had cleared the way, plans were flying back and forth across the ocean. With stronger alliances and a global reach, they would be more powerful, as a group, than ever before.
It wouldn’t be easy, and it wasn’t perfect. The New England Council was deeper into the drug trade than ever before, and he had allowed his own family to dirty its fingers in that filth. When the time came to pull away again, there would be conflict, inside and out. Nick honestly had no idea how he’d keep peace then, but he meant to find a way.
That was a problem to solve tomorrow. Today, he had victory, and though he couldn’t relish it, he could appreciate it.
Today was the dawning of a new era of La Cosa Nostra. One that looked forward rather than back.
Nick had achieved that. He hadn’t done it alone, but it was his stature that had made it possible, the flex of his arm that had made it happen. It was his victory first, and though it tasted flat and sat heavy in his chest, it nourished.
Now he had peace.
And the freedom to make his own legacy as he saw fit.
He’d gotten what he’d wanted.
But God, what he’d lost.
A soft knock on his unlatched office door drew his attention from the harbor beyond his windows, and he looked over his shoulder to see Donnie leaning in. He was expected, and Nick mastered his melancholy musings and focused on his work.
“I’ve got Tony and Trey with me,” Donnie said.
“Come.” Nick went around his desk and stood before it as Donnie led the young men in. He offered his hand, first to Tony, who grinned a little as he shook Nick’s hand firmly.
Tony had a hunger for the violence. Maybe not an enjoyment, but a need for it. That was something to keep in check until it was useful, and Tony understood as much.
“You did very well last night, Tony. Thank you.”
“I’m at your service, don. Always.”
Nick gave him the smile that said he valued that service and turned to his heir.
“Trey.” Holding out his arms, he invited Trey into a warm embrace. “You make me proud, nephew.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I’m in awe of you. What you accomplished? You changed the world.”
Nick set him back and clutched his shoulders. “I told you once that I would go to the mattresses for you.”
Trey blushed, but he didn’t let his eyes drop away. “I’m humbled.”
Nick stepped back and indicated the seating area of his office with a short sweep of his arm. “Sit. I have things to discuss with you both.”
Nick and Donnie sat in their customary places, facing each other in the club chairs. Tony and Trey sat on the sofa, each at an end, Trey nearest Nick. Knowing how quickly people developed habits, Nick guessed that they had just picked their customary positions as well.
When everyone was settled, Nick began at once. “I don’t exaggerate when I say what we did last night, and what we’re doing today, has changed our world fundamentally. The relationship between Sicily and America will be different from this day forth. Old traditions have fallen. New traditions will rise, and we will be the ones who