Page 1 of The Don

Prologue

Ruben

The sergeant at arms stares at me stoically. Other than a tight jaw and snarl, he’s not responding to anything Dominic and I are doing to him.

“Where is he?” I ask in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” he responds with spittle flying out of his mouth.

I look toward Dominic and cock a brow. Dominic shakes his head and walks over to the cabinet. He opens it and instantly reaches for the brass knuckles. He slides them over his hands and walks back to the sergeant. “It would be in your best interest to tell us where Adrian is.”

The sergeant is on his knees with his arms outstretched and secured by chains. He looks at Dominic and snickers. “That shit don’t scare me.”

Dominic lays two into him and steps back. “You sure?” Dominic asks with humor and flicks the blood off the knuckle-dusters.

The sergeant spits a tooth out and shakes his head. “My crew is gonna rip you apart. Piece by fucking piece.”

This guy is loyal and if he wasn’t a dirty fucking biker, I’d be hiring him to be part of my family. I stand back and cross my arms in front of my chest. Dominic straightens and cracks his neck. “I can do this for a long time.” He smashes his fists into the guy’s face, pounding with the knuckle-dusters. His next attacks are fast and unexpected, like a viper’s strike.

We’ve been at it for hours; if I was going to get anything from this fucker, I would’ve gotten it already. “He’s done.”

Dominic turns to look at me, a fine spray of blood smeared across my nephew’s face. He gives me a nod of understanding before sliding the dusters off his hands. “That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? Fucking pussies,” the sergeant gurgles as blood drips from his mouth.

Dominic drops the dusters, takes his gun from where it was tucked in the back of his pants, and shoots him twice in the head. Dominic returns the gun to where it was and turns toward me. “I wouldn’t speak out of turn, Uncle, but I wanted to take him further.”

“He wasn’t going to give anything up about your brother.”

“He’s not my brother,” Dominic replies with disgust. “He lost that fucking right.” He wipes the back of his hand across his face. “Marco.”

Marco is never too far from wherever Dominic is, and it gives me comfort to know he has such a loyal soldier and friend. Marco looks to the sergeant and shakes his head. He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Any good?”

“Nothing,” Dominic replies.

“Fucker.” Marco stands back and tilts his head from side to side as he stares at the corpse in my shed. “I’ll get Frank.”

Once Marco has left, I clap a hand to Dominic’s shoulder. “Come. Maria has made cannoli, if we don’t eat them she’ll be upset.” Maria is my devoted old cook. “Besides, it’s best if you wash the blood off your hands and face before you go home to Rose.” We head out of the shed and make our way toward the house.

“If I left the blood on, it would make Rosa quite happy,” Dominic says with a wide, proud smile.

“Come.” As we enter my house, Dominic breaks away to use the washroom, and I walk toward my office. “Maria,” I call when I see she’s not in the kitchen.

I hear her footsteps along the marble floors. “Si,” she says and enters my office.

“Two coffees, and bring some of the cannoli you’ve made.”

Her eyes widen as does her smile. “Si, signore.” She backs away from the door with a small nod. “Mr. Sacco,” she greets as she passes Dominic on his way out of the washroom.

“Hello, Maria,” I hear his pleasantries. He appears at my doorway and knocks once.

“Come in.” I gesture for him to enter and sit on the sofa opposite to where I am. The blood on Dominic’s clothes is prevalent, though his hands and face have been washed. “How are the wedding plans?” I couldn’t care less about the wedding, but this is a gateway into my other questions. I adjust my posture, being careful to make Dominic believe this is a friendly conversation.

“Rosa is over it. She doesn’t even want a church wedding, but I told her it’s important to the family.”

I scrub my hand across my chin. “Good. Keep her in line.”

“Signore,” Maria announces at the worst possible time.

“Come in, Maria.” She enters carrying a silver tray and lays it on the coffee table between our two facing sofas. She places a coffee in front of me, then Dominic, and plonks a plate stacked with cannoli between us. “Thank you.” She smiles toward me and leaves. “Your Rose isn’t keen on a church wedding?”