Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(120)

I nodded. “Yes. Here. Have someone get a few tarps in case there’s a mess.”

Sandu blanched. “How?” he asked.

“A broken neck would be quickest, least messy. You’ve done it before,” I said.

“Yeah, but…”

“Too up close?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “Get the tarps, and we’ll go to the garage. A well-placed stab to the heart will do just as well.”

He shook his head slowly. “Maybe a gun?” he asked tentatively.

“No. Not an option. Too messy and too noisy. One of the others is the best way,” I said.

Sandu looked as though he might faint.

“They are counting on you. You must avenge your leader and set an example for your clan,” I said, sounding eerily like Christoph Senior.

Sandu swallowed, glanced at Adela, who watched him through hooded, glittering eyes. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Sandu!” I called, but he slipped out of the room without looking at me.

“Anxious to meet your end, Anton?” Adela said.

I turned to her. “No, I just want to make this as easy as possible for them. Does that upset you?” I asked.

I drifted to where she sat and lowered myself into the chair across from her. Other than worrying over Lily, something I didn’t want to do, instead wishing to remember those so few and so precious good moments, I had little to fill what was left of my time. A chat with Adela would do well enough.

She scoffed, eyes glittering with anger now and not grief. “Does it upset me? It shouldn’t, not after all these years. But in truth, it sickens me. You always have the right answer, always do the thing that would make him most proud…” She trailed off, her voice fading on a sob that she bit back.

After a deep breath, she began again. “It shouldn’t surprise me, but I’d hoped…”

“Hoped what?” I said.

“Hoped that maybe you would break, show some crack, show some of the weakness that my own sons never managed to hide. Yet here you are, noble to the end. The son Christoph always dreamed of.”

By the time she finished, her voice was low, brimming with rage and disgust.

“Well, Adela, that’s something you won’t have to worry about for too much longer,” I said, feeling perversely calm as I discussed my fate, and perversely amused. Adela had never wanted me around in the first place, had wanted me gone for years. At least someone would get what they wanted.

Then I leaned back in my chair and waited, time moving, though I didn’t bother to see how much passed.

I stood when the door opened and Sandu walked in, accompanied by Ciprian Dragos, leader of Clan Dragos such as it was, and one of the most vicious men I’d ever encountered.

“Ciprian, what are you doing here?” I said.

“I asked him to come, Anton. I can’t…” Sandu said.

“You must,” I replied, walking toward him.

“I can’t,” he said flatly.

“So that’s why he’s here?”

Sandu nodded.

“What!” Adela exclaimed, standing and rushing over to us, the sight of the old woman staring daggers at us one that would have been comical in any other circumstance.

“I can’t,” Sandu said again, this time whispering.

“So you’re going to let an outsider do your work? Let him exact the justice that by all rights belongs to Clan Constantin?”

I’d never seen her angrier; her small body practically vibrated with it.

“Yes,” he whispered, the shame in his voice only second to the certainty.

Adela gaped, looked at me. “Is he who you intended to lead?”

“Yes,” I said.

Sandu looked over at me, shock again lighting his face.

“My family’s legacy, my husband’s life’s work, the blood of my only children left to the likes of him?” she spat.

“There’s no other option, Adela. Christoph Senior is gone. All of the Constantin sons are gone. If Sandu doesn’t lead, then Clan Constantin is no more,” I said softly.

“They are not,” she whispered.

“Not what?” I asked, Sandu and Ciprian looking at her as intently as I did.

“You said all of the Constantin sons were dead. You’re not.”

There was another shocked hush, and I looked at Sandu as he processed what she’d said.

“So you’re saying he’s Christoph Senior’s son?” he asked.

“He is. As we’ve all known for years,” Adela replied.

“So he should be leader,” Sandu said.

“Yes,” she replied, the word low, broken, and seeming to take with it all of her rage, making her appear almost empty.