Page 71 of The Don

I know that voice. Sardinia’s face is red with rage. At least he doesn’t cower when we make eye contact.

“That money should have gone to his padrino,” he says. “Every lira he and your uncles kept was one more nail in their coffins. They knew that, and you know that as well.”

“You’re right.” Someone exhales loudly in relief. “I’m not here to avenge my father’s honor. I understand exactly who he was.”

“Then what is this all about?”

“My mother. My cousins. Me.” I punctuate every word by shooting another man in the face. Campania. Piemonte. Veneto. Lombardy. The oldest members of The Board. The five men who were sitting in these seats when The Board decided to have my family members killed; my father and uncle Daniele for their theft, my other uncles as a lesson.

“They knew the consequences, but the coffins they constructed…” I shake my head in grief. “We never got the chance to bury them. That was on your orders, Milo, yes?” I aim this question at Sardinia. He hadn’t been a capo then, not even a padrino, just another soldier trying to make a name for himself. And he did — by helping to kill my father and uncles.

“The Board said they needed to be eliminated, but it was you who made sure there was nothing to find, right? Nothing for their families to bury?”

“I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

“I’d never ask you to do that. But you can take responsibility, can’t you, Milo?”

The men around the table start to grumble. “We don’t use names in this room,” Pedro says.

I turn, surprised to see that Tommaso still has a gun aimed at his head. “I forgot you were here.”

Pedro shrugs. “Thank you.”

I turn back to Sardinia. “Where were we?”

“If I tell you—”

I shake my head and cluck my tongue. “Whenyou tell me.”

“Will you kill me?”

I scratch at my beard. “No. If you tell me that it was you, I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life, but I will let you live.”

“It was me.”

I aim my gun directly at his face.

His eyes narrow to slits. “You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“And you said you understood that there are consequences for your actions.” I squeeze the trigger just as he curses at me.

I look at the six men slumped over in their chairs and sigh in relief.

For years I dreamed about what it would feel like to make it to this moment. I thought I would feel happy, but I just feel…complete. I’ve been waiting decades for this moment, and now it’s done.

“What now, Sasà?”

My jaw tics. No one has called me that name in decades. When I turn to Puglia — Andrea — one of my father’s closest friends, his eyes are open. They’ve gone watery and pale with age, but they’re still as warm as I remember.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Andrea says with a laugh. “You know. You still want to leave?”

My eyes flit around the room to Giulio and Tommaso, their guns still steady. I take in what’s left of The Board. I think of Shae.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Shae wants to go home, and I want to be with her.”

Andrea laughs. “Then you go. You deserve a rest.”