Chapter 15 - The Last War
Marco escaped during a medical transfer.
Three guards were injured.
One died.
Within an hour, Salvatore knew where his brother would go.
The old Moretti estate in Queens.
Their childhood home.
“Why there?” Carmine asked.
“Because Marco never understood the difference between memory and ownership.”
Salvatore went despite federal orders.
Leo was moved to Nora’s protection.
Before leaving, Salvatore crouched.
“I will come back.”
Leo stared at him.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“No mafia promise.”
Salvatore almost smiled.
“What kind?”
“A dad promise.”
Salvatore held out his hand.
“Dad promise.”
At the old estate, Marco waited inside their father’s study.
No army.
No guards.
Just Marco.
A bottle of whiskey stood between them.
“You came alone,” Marco said.
“So did you.”
Marco laughed.
“They all left.”
“Because you lost.”
“No. Because people are disloyal.”
Salvatore looked around.
“This room used to frighten you.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing frightened me.”
“Father did.”
Silence.
Their father had beaten Marco.
Praised Salvatore.
Compared them constantly.
Salvatore had spent years pretending he did not see it.
“I should have protected you,” Salvatore said.
Marco stared.
“Don’t.”
“I was your brother.”
“Don’t pity me.”
“I’m not.”
Marco’s hand moved toward a pistol.
“I became what Father trained me to be.”
“No.”
Salvatore shook his head.
“He hurt you. What you became afterward was still your choice.”
Marco fired.
The bullet missed.
Salvatore tackled him.
They fought through the study.
Furniture shattered.
Marco eventually reached the pistol again.
He pointed it at Salvatore.
Then stopped.
Police lights flooded the windows.
There was nowhere to go.
“You ruined everything,” Marco whispered.
Salvatore stood bleeding.
“No.”
He looked at his brother.
“You did.”
Marco raised the gun to his own head.
Salvatore lunged.
The weapon fired.
For one horrifying second, neither moved.
Then Marco fell.
The bullet had struck his shoulder.
Alive.
Agents stormed the room.
As they carried Marco away, he looked at Salvatore.
“Was I ever your brother?”
Salvatore answered quietly.
“Always.”
Marco’s face twisted.
May you like
Perhaps for the first time, regret appeared.
Then he was gone.
