Chapter Eighteen
Holding on to anger
is like grasping a hot coal
with the intent of throwing
it at someone else; you are
the one who gets burned.
Buddha
twenty years old
Naz pulls a shiny Smith and Wesson out from the waistband of his jeans, while the other guy pulls out a Colt with the outline of a snake etched into the base.
Turning to the guy beside him, Naz says, “Watch and learn, man. Watch and learn. They’ll be begging me to come back to Florida after this. I’ll be a fucking legend, dude.”
Man, don’t fucking do it, Naz, I beg in my head, still hidden from view.
And he does it.
I watch as he eyes the guy beside him and gives him a smirk before lifting his gun in Asher’s direction. Already, three Romano men have joined Asher and another is exiting the car. If Naz does this, he’ll die.
He thinks he can take on this many men, because he’s seen me do it.
But he isn’t me, and he doesn’t know what Asher is capable of. Up until a month ago, Asher was virtually an unknown entity in the mafia world. He came out of nowhere, and if Naz has even a semblance of a brain in his head, that should tell him all he needs to know about Asher. But of course, it would be asking too much to ask Naz to think things through.
So before I can second guess myself, I pull the gun I used to kill Uncle Luca out of the holster hidden underneath my hoodie. I shoot to kill the guy beside Naz, then I shoot Naz’s hand, the one holding the gun.
Asher turns to us, and the guys behind him pull out their weapons.
But Asher holds up a fist when he sees me, and his companions lower their guns.
“Niccolaio?!” Naz exclaims, clutching his injured hand tightly. His eyes are trained on mine, equal parts vehemence and disbelief in them.
If I look closely, I suspect I’d see the betrayal in them, too, which is why I don’t look too closely. Instead, I quickly reassess the situation and make a decision. The gun lays on the ground beside Naz. I ignore him, reach down and grab his Smith and Wesson and his friend’s Colt, too. I pocket them both in the waistband of my pants, keeping my gun in my right hand but loosely at my side.
Asher approaches us. When he looks at the dead guy on the ground, I shake my head, indicating that he’s no longer alive. Asher nods and turns his attention on Naz, who—like the idiot he is—is trying to get up.
I use my left foot and push Naz back down, knowing if he gets up, he’ll only make things worse for himself.
“Fucking traitor scum. You don’t deserve the Andretti name,” Naz spits out.
I don’t say anything, because I was expecting the insults the moment Naz spit out my name like it was an incurable disease. Instead of rising to the bait, I keep my mouth shut and wait to see what Asher will do.
He gives me a look that brings me back to the night I killed Uncle Luca, when he gave me that same look. We had just escaped the compound after Ranieri took one look at me exiting Uncle Luca’s room with Asher and ran into his bedroom for a weapon.
I had no doubt that he called Dad after that, and we were now targets in Andretti territory. I had to get out of there, and I didn’t know what to do. Asher stared at me, gave me this odd look like I surprised him, and then he just left.
And I was on my own.
Now, a month later, I can’t exactly say that I’ve been doing very well on my own.
But I’m alive, and that’s gotta count for something.
From beneath my foot, Naz snarls, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Niccolaio? Ya know, I didn’t believe them when they said you killed Luca. But I should have known you were scum. Do you know who this man is? Asher fucking Black. How much is he paying you?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “First you take Luca’s life, and now you save his life?”
Asher arches his brow as if to say, yeah, why’d you save my life?
But the truth is, I didn’t save Asher’s life.
I saved Naz’s.
The ungrateful shit just doesn’t realize it.
But if I let him kill Asher, Asher’s men would have mowed him down. He was out numbered, and there was a good reason why Naz had been sent to the border. He isn’t like me or Asher. He’s like one of those five pound Chihuahas that thinks that he’s a German Shepherd or some shit. The only reason he’s under the protection of the Andretti family is because his dad is cool with mine.
Other than that, he’s pretty much good for nothing. But still, once upon a time, he was my friend. And for some reason, that still matters to me, so I did what I can. I saved him, and in doing so, I happened to save Asher.
Now, I’m standing silently, waiting to see what the consequences of that are. I know Asher will piece together why I did this—if he hasn’t already. It’s just a matter of time. And once he does, I wonder what he’ll do to me.
After all, I was still born an Andretti.
“Angelo?” Naz calls out pitifully, turning his head in the direction of his companion.
I sigh and gentle my voice when I say, “He’s dead.”
Naz’s eyes flash, and they’re full of fury. “He was one of ours,” he seethes.
“I didn’t recognize him.”
“You’ve been gone for a while.”
“I’ve been gone for a month.”
“A lot can happen in a month.”
He’s right.
A lot can happen in a month. In many ways, I’m a different person than I was a month ago. Physically, I’m stronger and quicker. Inside, I’m colder. Hardened by my uncle’s murder at my own hands.
But in some ways, I haven’t changed.
A month ago, I would have tried to save Naz. And as it turns out, a few minutes ago, I was still willing to do the same. Even if Naz is an ignorant, ungrateful ass. And unfortunately, both Naz and Angelo had guns.
And I only had one.
I couldn’t risk Angelo getting a shot off while I disarmed Naz, so I killed him. It was easier that way.
Did it suck that I had such a disregard for life?
Of course.
But even I recognized that, in a weird way, I also had a reverence for life, too.
I valued Naz’s life. It just happened to be at the expense of Angelo’s. Just like I valued Ranieri’s at the expense of Uncle Luca’s. It’s a disgusting ability to be able to look at lives and prioritize. To say which one is worth more.
But as the Andretti heir, that’s what I was taught by my own father to do.
But judging by Naz’s reaction to seeing me, none of the Andrettis see what I did this way.
And that means I’m still on the run. That perhaps I’ll always be on the run.
But then, Asher turns to me and gives me an offer that changes everything.
He offers me asylum in Romano territory, and damn it, I accept it.
And because I’ve hated living on the run and the Andrettis already hate me, I don’t even consider that it might be a mistake when I accept Asher’s offer.
That, once I do this, there’s no turning back.