Free Dark Soul Vol. 5 by Aleksandr Voinov Page A

bad.” He sat down on a stool and placed one hand on her hip. “There’s a US Attorney on my back, and he has enough to work it.” He’d keep it to the sanitized version.
    Neither Silvio nor she needed to know that the man was working the gay angle. “I could fight him. I’d have to fight him with an outfit that’s already mutinous anyway. Silvio’s heard talk of them getting rid of me.”
    “Oh my God, really? Who’s behind it? Augusto?” She looked worried, disturbed, but not scared.
    “He’s the ring leader, yes.”
    “And he has enough support?”
    “Well, he’s feeling secure enough in this that he’s attempted to hire Silvio to kill me.”
    Her lip curled in disgust. “Traitor.”
    “Quite.” Stefano touched her hand. “I could invite him over and shoot him myself. Or have Silvio do it and get rid of the body. But that might not resolve it. I know it’s what I should do and what my father would have done . . .”
    “Stefano, you always loathed your father.”
    Those words cut deep, right to the marrow, and he reeled. His father had pushed him into this position, had prepared him for it, had turned him into a made man, him and his friends. And he’d just accepted it, desperate not to disappoint and more desperate to be seen as a real man, because that was what real men did. They became criminals, wrote their own rules, killed people.
    Stefano stared at his own hand for a moment, remembered what it had felt like: the shock from the pistol, the way the kneeling figure had col apsed, a bag over his head.
    Now you are a man.
    “God, you’re right.”
    She looked at him with an ironic curl to her lip. “You’re only realizing that now?”
    “No, about . . . everything.” The Marino clan. Absolutely everything he’d lived for, killed for, devoted himself to and would get killed for unless he found a way out. It wasn’t even his family. It was very much what his father had built, and his father before him.
    “We could be free of all of this, Donata. If we were prepared to let it all go. There’ll be still enough money I legally own. We’d be all right, definitely for a while. We’d just walk away.”
    She nodded. “I married you, not your job or your friends and associates.”
    “What about your family?”
    She shrugged but inhaled deeply, betraying the difficulty of that decision. “I’m not going to watch you get murdered.”
    Which was a very real possibility. The attorney had given him a week. He’d call him tomorrow. He could do this now; as long as Donata had his back and stood by him, he’d be fine. He felt guilty that he’d tear her from her family and friends, but so relieved she’d chosen him over everybody else.
    He started when Silvio appeared in the archway. No footfalls, just Silvio’s silhouette manifesting in the corner of his eye. He squeezed Donata’s arm and stood up. “I’ll go fetch some wine.”
    He walked past Silvio, who wore black jeans and a black running top that clung to him so tight Stefano could see his six-pack underneath. “Sit down, relax. It’s your birthday,” he said low, but still loud enough for Donata to hear him, and touched Silvio on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right,” he promised, and to prove it, he tilted Silvio’s head toward him and kissed him on the lips. Silvio frowned, questioningly, but didn’t do anything else.
    Stefano hurried down to the wine cellar and came back up, worried what might have happened in the meantime.
    Apparently, nothing much. Donata was setting the table. Silvio stood near, but not too close, observing, like he often did, seemingly aware of everything, ready to respond at any moment. Looked like Donata hadn’t made an attempt at conversation, either.
    Stefano set the bottles down on the table. “The food will take a while. How’s the dog?”
    “Ate so much he almost col apsed in the bowl.” Silvio grinned, oddly boyish, and way too cute for a killer. “I . . . was surprised when you brought him,