Page 40 of Savage Angels
He lightly touches Gunner’s head then moves toward Emily, who gives me a tired wave as Sal whisks her off in search of another flight to Chicago.
“Are they leaving?” asks Kat.
“Sal needs to get back… work.”
Kat repositions Blaze in her arms and then puts on a fake smile for the press. “Lucky Sal. You ready for this?”
“No.”
Kat laughs. “The joys of being married to a rock star.”
“Oh, darlin’, there are many joys, but the press, thinking they own you, isn’t one of them.”
She nods, but we both know the press will want their pound of flesh, so we move toward the waiting crowd with the rest of her band. Dave is already barking orders at them, reminding them we have babies and if they should get jostled in any way, he will sue all of them.
Chapter Fourteen
Salvatore
The whispers in the dark corners of the city echo with the news of Don Abruzzi’s demise. Like a vengeful wildfire, it spreads and solidifies my place as the new head of the Abruzzi Crime Family. I can feel the weight of their stares on my back, sharp like the wire that ended the Don’s reign.
My mind wanders back to the events that led me here—the late nights, the deals gone wrong, the blood staining my hands. The sacrifices I made for this goddamn family weigh heavily on my soul, and the faces of those I lost haunt my dreams.
The time has come to call a meeting of the families. I want to address any concerns head-on to show them I am every bit as strong and capable as Don Abruzzi had been. I stand at the head of the long, polished table, feeling a renewed sense of determination course through my veins. This is my moment, my chance to prove my worth.
“Listen up,” I say, my voice echoing through the dimly lit room. “I know some of you have doubts about me taking over. I get it. But I am not here to replace Don Abruzzi. I’m here to carry on his legacy, to forge my own path forward, and to bring us kicking and screaming into this century, whether you like it or not.”
Tarso Lombardi, the grizzled old head of his family, narrows his eyes at me from across the table. “You think you got what it takes to rule us?” he growls, his voice thick with skepticism.
“Look,” I reply, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I am not going to apologize for who I am or where I come from. I’m bringing something new to the table that’s going to help us expand into new markets and territories.” Their curiosity is piqued, but I know I have to drive the point home.
The room goes deathly silent as I open the door and let her enter. She walks in with an air of confidence that makes even the most hardened man in the room take notice. The fact she is a woman does not matter, her very presence demands respect.
“Allow me to introduce you to Kiyoko of the Obayashi Yakuza.”
“Yakuza?” Tarso scoffs, his face twisted in disbelief. “You bringin’ outsiders into our family?”
“Times are changing, Tarso,” I reply, my voice steady and calm. “And if we don’t change with them, we’re going to be left behind.” I can see the uncertainty in their eyes, but I hold firm. This is the future, whether they like it or not.
“Besides,” I add, a sly grin spreading across my lips, “I think you’ll find that Kiyoko here is more than capable of holding her own.”
The tension in the room is thicker than a fog on the Hudson. Tarso, his face red with anger, slams his hand down on the table, making glasses shudder.
“Women and outsiders don’t sit at our table!” he bellows.
Kiyoko’s smile is like a shark surveying its prey. I can see her calculating, ready to strike. She leans back in her chair, not a hint of fear in her eyes.
“Tell me, Tarso,” she says sweetly. “How are your deals with the gangs in Atlanta going?”
His face goes from red to crimson as he clenches his teeth, admitting, “We’re in an all-out war.”
“Such a shame,” Kiyoko replies, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You know, with a single phone call, I can end your troubles.” Her eyes lock onto his, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
Is this what it takes to survive in the new world? To cut through the bullshit and lay it all out on the table? To show these old-timers we aren’t fucking around?
As Kiyoko stares down Tarso, I feel a shift in the room. Every eye is on her, waiting to see if she will follow through on her promise. The silence is deafening.
“All right,” Tarso says, his voice dripping with skepticism. “If you can actually accomplish this… if you can end my troubles in Atlanta with a single phone call, I’ll yield. I won’t speak another word against Salvatore Agostino.”