Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(65)

He reached for the glass that sat across from him, hand trembling and then dropping under the weight of it. Wrinkled face set in a determined expression, he lifted the glass to his mouth, drank slowly.

Water sloshed out of the sides of his mouth and down to wet his chest, but I ignored it and didn’t make any attempt to help. His pride could not have borne it, and I had no wish to cause him any further distress.

“How is Adela?” I asked after he finished his drink and set down the glass.

“She lost a son. Her youngest. How do you think?” he replied gruffly.

His eyes glittered, and I could see that he wasn’t just speaking of his wife’s loss.

Petey Constantin, for all his flaws, had been loved by his parents, his loss acutely felt, even after what he’d done, the shame he had brought to his father’s name. When he’d lived, Petey had been liked by all but respected by few. But he hadn’t known that, had believed he had a place as head of Clan Constantin, a place he’d never take so long as his brother Christoph Junior lived.

And he’d been right. Even if Petey had been suited for leadership—something that, as fond of him as I may have been, I readily admitted he had not been—Christoph Junior was the first son, entitled to his father’s seat by birth and tradition, something that Petey—or anyone else—couldn’t change.

But Petey had been ambitious, and that ambition had driven him to the worst of offenses, had caused him to plan an attempt on Sorin Petran’s life in hopes his brother Vasile would retaliate and kill Christoph Junior, clearing a path for Petey to take over. A convoluted plan doomed to failure, and that failure had cost Petey his life.

In some ways, I understood what Petey had done, knew all too well how hard it was to accept one’s role in life. But now, Petey would never have that chance.

“I spoke with Vasile and Sorin. I thought it would be better if I handled those conversations,” I said, looking at Christoph Senior again.

The old man nodded his approval. “The Petrans have always thought fondly of you, and I don’t know if they would have felt the same about another Constantin. And I wouldn’t want to risk my last son.”

The words, his tone, the unspoken repudiation of me barely stung, not anymore, but I felt that faint twinge, an echo of the pain that had once been so strong it threatened to shatter me. Now, it was only an instinct, a reflex. I’d made my peace with who I was, where I stood with Clan Constantin and with Christoph Senior. He trusted me with responsibilities that he did few others, respected me as much as he did anyone else, and that was enough.

“I thought you’d agree. Vasile is understandably upset, but I don’t think he will retaliate further.”

“I hope for my son’s sake and for this clan’s that you are right,” he said.

The old man stared at me, eyes searching. “Do you think Christoph Junior knew?”

I shook my head. “I was there, heard Petey with my own ears. Christoph Junior didn’t know. And besides, would he have supported his brother in the plot to get rid of Sorin if he knew Petey’s ultimate aim was his death?”

Christoph looked away, reflective. I was reflecting on all that had happened too. Petey had plotted to kill Sorin Petran, and ultimately his own brother. None of us had ever expected such a thing, not from the youngest Constantin, the fun-loving one, the one always quick with a joke. The harmless one.

Harmless.

I almost laughed at the thought.

This life had long ago taken away my capacity for surprise, had left me more than wary, but what Petey had done was shocking, even to me. The desire for power, the quest for elevation I understood, but family, our clan, was our bond, the only thing that meant anything. And for Petey to plot against it, to try to bring it down, had an effect on us all, even Christoph Senior.

It was also a useful reminder, one I planned to heed. Christoph looked at me again, but I couldn’t quite read his expression. “Maybe he had another plan. Thought he could betray Petey before he went through with it.”

“No. He had no reason to. Christoph Junior knows that after…” I paused and then began again. “He knows that he will lead. No reason to get on the bad side of the Petrans, especially so early in his tenure. They are respected and powerful; he wouldn’t risk it.”

“And are we not? Does Clan Constantin mean nothing?” the old man asked, phlegmy voice going stronger as he clenched his hand defiantly.

“Christoph, you know what Clan Constantin is, and you know it’s that way because you made it. People respect us because of you. They like Christoph Junior, but he’s new, unproven. It would be foolish to test the bonds of loyalty, especially against such a formidable opponent.”