Chapter 2 - The Unforgivable Sin
The silence that followed Marco’s confession was heavier than the casket resting on the altar. The air in the funeral parlor seemed to vanish, sucked away by the gravity of his words. "She saw something she wasn't supposed to see." The sentence echoed in my mind, ringing with a sickening clarity.
I stepped forward, closing the distance between Marco and me. My men instinctively parted, forming a tight circle around us. Bruno stayed by the coffin, a silent sentinel, his growl dropping to a continuous, menacing hum. He was leaving Marco to me.
"Tell me," I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a razor. "What could a seven-year-old girl possibly see that warranted a hit-and-run?"
Marco was trembling now. The tough, battle-hardened underboss who had stood by my side in cartel shootouts was shaking like a coward. "Boss... you have to understand. I was trying to protect the family. The Volkov syndicate... they approached me."
The Volkovs. Russian mob. Brutal, expansionist, and our fiercest rivals. We had a truce, a fragile line drawn in the concrete of New York City, but I always knew they wanted our territory.
"They offered a deal," Marco babbled, sweat pooling on his forehead. "A trade-off. They wanted access to the port shipments, just a fraction. In exchange, they’d wipe out the feds sniffing around our off-shore accounts. I met their lieutenant, Sergei, behind Vasquez’s restaurant to finalize the terms."
I felt my blood run cold. Marco had been selling me out. But it was the next part that made my stomach turn.
"The kid... Elena. She was in the alley. She was feeding a stray cat behind the dumpsters," Marco choked out, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "Sergei and I got into a heated argument. He pulled a gun. I shot him, Boss. I killed Sergei to protect our secrets. But when I turned around... she was standing there. Holding a little bowl of milk. She saw everything. She saw my face. She knew me from when I used to collect from her dad."
I closed my eyes. A seven-year-old girl. A witness to a mob execution.
"I panicked," Marco cried, dropping to his knees. "The Volkovs would have tortured her to find out who killed Sergei. The cops would have made her testify. I got in the car... she ran into the street... I didn't stop. I couldn't stop! I did it for us, Boss!"
I opened my eyes and looked down at the man I had treated like a brother. He wasn't crying for Elena. He was crying for himself. He had murdered an innocent child to cover up his own treason, masking it as loyalty to the family.
I turned to Tony. "Take his gun. Empty his pockets."
Tony moved swiftly, stripping Marco of his weapons and his dignity. Marco didn't resist. He just kept pleading.
May you like
"Boss, please. Twelve years! We're blood!"
"My blood doesn't kill children," I said coldly. I looked at Bruno. The dog had finally stopped growling. He sat tall beside the white coffin, watching me with intelligent, sorrowful eyes. He had done his job. Now I had to do mine. "Take him to the warehouse by the docks. Tie him up. I’ll deal with him after we bury the girl."
