Fall(Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 2)(5)

As I left Vasile’s, the me I was there, uncle, brother, got further away, and the real me, clan, sometimes killer, came out. This was a new development, one brought on by Fawn’s and Maria’s presence, one I hadn’t quite gotten accustomed to yet.

Vasile understood me, our world, and I didn’t have to pretend with him. I loved him; he was my best friend, but he was clan too, leader, in fact, and I didn’t have to mind myself around him, keep the darkness away. And it was better that way.

I knew who I was, what I was, but if I pretended too much, I might forget, think I was something more, something different than what I was, and I’d never let that happen. Not ever.

But with them, the little family that even now still surprised me, it was different. They didn’t know Sorin Petran of Clan Petran, not entirely, anyway, and much to my surprise, I wanted to keep it that way.

Esther, though, she was another story. A real, true-blue citizen, one not connected to clan, or the underworld at all save her ties to Fawn. And I’d never met anyone like her. Ever. All the people in my life, in my world, were connected, even if only barely. But not her.

And maybe that was why she vexed me so.

She knew nothing of our world, except that she should be afraid. But she never was. No, she pushed, rankled, gave no care to how I might react. And it drove me fucking crazy. She drove me crazy.

But I couldn’t think of that now.

I parked, entered the club owned by Clan Constantin. The man at the door gave me a passing once-over as I walked in. Good that he respected me, but we’d never be so lax at our place. While I didn’t plan for things to get out of hand, I was prepared if they did.

“Sorin.” Petey Constanin scurried over to me and clapped me on the back.

“Petey,” I replied, nodding.

“Glad you could make it. Father is here,” he said as he led me to the back of the club.

After we entered the private room, I went over to the old man sitting behind the desk. He looked ashen, gaunt, had lost more weight since I’d seen him last. But he was still dressed impeccably, and though I could see his struggle, how tired he was, he sat upright.

“Water, Father?” Petey said as he moved to his father’s side, again rushing.

Mr. Constantin shook his head, and I could see the effort the gesture took. “Mr. Petran, can I offer you something?” he rasped in Romanian, his voice deep, phlegmatic.

“No,” I replied, still standing.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the chair in front of him.

I normally wouldn’t, but the old man deserved respect, and I could see that staring up at me was taking a toll.

“You speak for Clan Petran?” he asked after I’d sat.

Another thing I appreciated about him. Right to business.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “So what are the terms?”

“Clan Petran will take thirty percent,” I said.

“Thirty—” Petey started to speak but was cut off by his father’s sharp, icy gaze.

“That’s a more than generous split. What justifies the amount?” he asked.

“We could take one hundred,” I said, “but we’re happy to let you manage the business and take a small cut for staying out of your way.”

The old man considered my words as Petey stewed. I understood. I’d wanted to continue running the fights, but Vasile had insisted this was a better way. And he was my leader and brother, so I listened.

“Your terms are amenable,” Constantin said while Petey sat, stunned.

“Good.”

“Now, please stay. Petey will escort you, show that Clan Constantin is committed to maintaining good relationships with Clan Petran,” he said.

I looked at Petey, wondered if he felt the same way. He was a second son like me, and he was pissed, but unlike me, powerless so therefore harmless.

“Of course,” I said, unwilling to disregard the old man’s hospitality.

Petey’s sullen expression dropped. “Come down to the basement. We have a very special event planned for tonight. We got a new fighter, and I think you’re going to love him,” he said.





* * *



Sorin



“You still here? Not at home playing papa?” I asked Vasile the next night, not bothering to hide the smile that covered my face, taking the opportunity to tease my brother about his newfound domestic bliss as I always did.

I slapped him on the back and then sat next to him.

“I don’t play anything,” he said, face grim as ever but his amusement clear. And then he leaned back, the momentary humor fading.

“They okay?” I asked, taking in the now more-serious-than-usual expression on his face.

He nodded. “Fine. I have five guys at home, so they’re good.”