the bad guy

Abel gave a look that lightly chastised Leon but he understood the frustration; the conversation with Sofia must have ended badly given their different temperaments and the older Costello made a mental note to check up on his cousin later on. Luca’s whereabouts were currently unknown and Abel couldn’t help but sigh. His cousin had promised to sober up, to be better and help with the business after he finished grieving for the dead Sinclair girl, Abel believed him then but with Marcel gone, who knows what Luca would do next. The boy would need more time to grieve.

Talks of retaliation got Abel thinking of his own personal business as he vaguely remembered asking Violet’s help, but Marcel’s death hampered his plans for this side project of his. And Leon was right, the blackout was a perfect time to strike and even he knew that the Sinclairs would take advantage of it as well. They needed to move fast.

“I want in,” Abel declared. Consigliere or not, he never was built for negotiations or managing behind a desk, and joining the attacks on the Sinclairs was the best use of his time and skills at the moment. It would give him an outlet for his rage, maybe he’ll even bump into Kieran O’Connell if he’s lucky.

“We make a move on their shipment, get us some supplies while we’re at it.”

Leon nodded at his cousin’s suggestion. For the time being, while the family sorts out next steps, hitting the Sinclair’s business where it hurt was the best course of action. “Do it,” he said. “Take whoever you need.”

Leon sighed and poured himself another drink, pausing for a moment for reality to really set in. His muscles, tense from his anger, relaxed as he exhaled his breath. His father was dead. The empire, the family, was in Leon’s hands now. It was a responsibility he had been preparing for his entire life. 

He couldn’t fuck it up.

They both knew it was an empty promise and in that instant, Mia’s love for her brother felt no boundaries. Leon was promising her the impossible and she would never hold him to it, but she needed him to say the words and he did.

Mia nodded as he told her he needed everyone at their best. There was no need for him to know what she had done since their father died, what she would do again, she was sure. Fake it till you make it was her motto now. There was too much on the line for him to worry about her. Or worse, get angry at her for once again failing the family.

“I can keep an eye on the twins if you want.” Maybe she could make sure they did not fail like her.

It was unfortunate that his siblings struggled with substance abuse. Leon had his own addictions, violence, cigarettes and blood to name a few, his demons didn’t control him as they did Mia and Ezra. Hell, probably Luca, as well. Leon was never one to lecture his siblings, trying to reserve the duties of father to their father, but now that Marcel was dead he knew he’d have to take on more. 

Had Mia fallen off the wagon? Probably. Leon could only assume the worst. Her father died. Leon couldn’t really blame her and now wasn’t the time to go off. It would just make matters worse. Mia knew the mistakes she made and how to pull herself out if she wanted. Leon would let her grieve in her own way, until it became a problem. Perhaps he was putting too much trust in his sister to get past her own afflictions. Maybe he’d regret his silence.

Sofia’s hands were so tight into fists that her battered knuckles were white and her fingernails dug into the soft skin of her palm. She was going to have to wear black gloves like something out of the Regency period. She idly debated if it would be more appropriate to lean into that or go full Lady Gaga. It was always easier to debate fashion choices than deal with emotions. 

“You’re just gonna kick me out? Send me home to Mom? Don’t you feel anything? Yell at me, call me a vicious cunt, do SOMETHING! I’m your goddamn sister! Hate me!” She realized she was shouting and tears were rolling down her cheeks as she slammed her hands down onto his desk. She was so small, what could her hands do anyway? What could she do at all about any of this? Nothing. “Care about something other than business.”

Leon stood from his desk and went to his sister, bending down to be on her level. She sat in the chair across and Dante stood in the door, waiting for further orders. Leon brushed a finger on her cheek, wiping away a tear. “I’m not going to call you a cunt, Sofia,” he said, looking in her eyes. Sympathy and compassion was foreign to Leon, but with his sister, he’d always try. “Business isn’t all I care about but you need to be with family and I need to deal with all of this fucking bullshit.” He rested a hand on her knee. 

“Go see Luca and make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid, okay?” Leon was pleading with Sofia now. He could feel heat rise through his body, frustration growing. He was going to explode and Sofia needed to be far away before that happened. “I need you to do that for me, okay?”

It took a lot of Cassandra to stay calm in front of Leon. The composure everyone expected from her and she was going to need it right now but more for her own sake. She carefully measured the words before finally saying them to Leon.

“This conversation was the morning of the Halloween party. I have never considered talking over choices with you, just with your father. So why would I change that on the morning of that party? The disappearance of your father and in the end his murder made sure I was unable to let him know about this news. It was the first thing I would do when seeing him, I messaged him right after I left there. I had no chance of letting him know.” Her voice was calm but her insides felt far from it. She was nowhere near calm on the inside. Her veins were burning, Her heart felt empty and cold. And all she wanted to do was go out there and find revenge for whoever had murdered her husband.

“I am not here to undermine your authority, Leon. I have never been out for the place that you have right now and you know that. You should know that after all these years. Me standing here in front of you and telling you this is already me not keeping things from you. So like I said; what can I do to help and don’t tell me I’ve done enough already.”

Leon sat, his jaw clenched tight, thinking what he would do if Violet had done what Cassandra did. No word, just a meeting with the enemy only to be told about it afterward. Not even Violet was spared from his temper. “I am the boss of this organization. Before my father died, I was second in command. Not you. You’ve already undermined my authority.”

“You shouldn’t have gone in the first place,” he spat. “Not without talking it over with him or myself first. Couldn’t reach him? You talk to me. Don’t go to the fucking meeting on your own.” Leon lit a cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs, nicotine giving him a head rush. “It’s a funny coincidence, don’t you think, that the Sinclair women had you occupied while your husband was taken by them.” He shook his head. “How do you know that meeting wasn’t just some facade to distract you from their true intentions?”

Just as she was about to stand, his shirt in hand to trade it off for a cleaner one, she felt him grip her hand; he’d been so still and the action so sudden, perhaps if she wasn’t as tired it might have startled her. She dropped his shirt to place a hand on the side of his face, letting him pull her closer, resolve reflecting back at her. I’m gonna slit their fucking throats. Violet couldn’t help it, the statement made a shimmer of a smile pass over her lips, barely noticeable. Fingers laced with his as she met his stare, “I know you are.”

She didn’t need to remind him he had many others who would help him — who would make sure blood was met with blood. She’d do whatever was necessary; it wasn’t just about her alliance, who she worked for. This was family. A family she’d fostered for nearly a decade. Marcel was gone. Leon had been passed the crown. It was something she’d known would happen eventually, and with it, if he’d have her, her own. Cassandra. Penelope. She’d never let herself think on it too much in the past — not when only one thing really mattered: she had his back. Now and forever.

“What do you need?”

“You,” he replied, kissing her neck with fingers pulling at fabric. Leon was exhausted, the weight of Marcel’s death and empire pushing on his back. “I need you to take care of my siblings,” he spoke. Violet was already handling the funeral arrangements but he needed her heart to help with their grief. Leon needed his wife to make up for what he lacked; a partner he could lean on. Trust. Violet was by no means soft but her heart wasn’t nearly as hardened as his own. 

“I also need sleep,” he added, groggily. “That, or coffee.”

Abel merely nodded at the mention of Violet, if they were back together, it was none of the consigliere’s business since the divorce was never finalized anyway. He was thankful to her though, Leon needed everyone during this difficult time, especially his wife.

The offer of whiskey was declined as Abel took out a pack of smokes instead; nicotine was a preferred option, it gave him enough calm without dulling his senses. 

“Gio probably knows by now,” he stated, nothing ever gets past his father even when behind bars. “We don’t even have to tell him anything.” Still, a visit was warranted, just to check on his old man, while Abel never had any siblings, he could imagine how painful it must be to lose a brother.

Smoke curled around Abel as he looked at Leon, and he wondered what must be going through his cousin’s mind. They were much younger when Leon lost his mother, but even then they were trained to keep their emotions in check.  

“Have you talked to the twins yet?” Luca and Sofia were always going to be a priority, ever since Guinevere died, everyone had become protective of the two. Abel wasn’t really known for sentimentality, but he cared just as much.

Leon nodded as Abel spoke of his father. Good. Having allies around every corner, especially ones who didn’t need to be babysat, helped win wars. At the mention of the twins, however, Leon was sent back to his conversation with Sofia.

He took a shot.

“I spoke with Sof,” he said. “Told her ‘bout Dad.” Leon shook his head, remembering her denial and how poorly he handled it. He shrugged and finished off his cigarette. He replaced it with another immediately. “Haven’t seen Luca yet.” Leon was sure his youngest brother was either stoned or drunk at that very moment. 

The woman nodded at his words. Leon had a thirst for blood and Mia couldn’t blame him. She felt it too. But her question wasn’t about a Sinclair dying but one of them. Another one of them. Exhausted, Mia fell down the nearest chair and looked at her brother. What would she do if he or Ezra were next? If the twins were next? All her life, she wanted nothing more than to be included, to be part of the family. But now, grief-stricken, there was a fear that came with it. 

“Don’t be next Leon Gregorio Costello. Make them pay but don’t you dare be next. Promise me.” She knew she was asking him the impossible, that he could not promise her that. But the lost girl that she was just needed her brother at that moment and she didn’t care if he had to lie to her.

Leon’s eyes studied Mia’s face as she spoke. He wanted her to make a promise he couldn’t keep. She knew as much as he did that no one gets to choose their fate. “I promise,” he lied. 

Sofia wanted to scream and throw things and shatter the room until it was nothing but shards of glass and splinters. In that moment, she thought she even might be able to bring down the actual walls. She focused instead on the bottle and thinking about colour swatches. And her oldest brother, who seemed like a stranger. To be fair, he usually did. There were thirteen years between them, and it had always seemed like a vast chasm, more so now than ever.

“Who gives a fuck if they suffer? What good does that do for me? You think I care about that shit? I couldn’t give less of a fuck. Dad’s dead. And he’s dead because of all this stupid shit you’re all into. And the next person who dies, it’ll be the same thing, and the next, and the next, until we’re all fucking dead. So don’t sit there and tell me that you’re going to fix it, because you couldn’t fix shit if you tried. All you fuckers know how to do is break things.” Her voice got quieter and thinner, like it could break at any moment, as she stared at her brother, eyes empty of anything but exhaustion. 

“Our mother is dead and gone. There’s no heaven, no hell, there’s just this shit that we’re in right now, and I’m glad she never had to see it.” She threw back the bottle and slammed it down on the table. “So there’s that. As to the desk, I really think you should go with something sort of classic, you know, hand-carved.”

Leon took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as Sofia went off on her rant. If anyone else spoke to him the way she had, they’d be faced with his wrath. A short temper and a taste for blood was constant. Though, his littlest sister needed to grieve and he couldn’t punish her for that, even if she insisted on punishing him. 

“Are you finished?” he asked, when she switched from blaming him for their father’s death to interior design. “We can talk desks later.” Leon’s patience was running thin and he had plans to make. He was sure one more comment from Sof would set him off and that wasn’t something she deserved. "For now, go be with the family.”

He learned of the news just like everybody else, from the goddamn internet. Abel hated it, hated that his family’s life was put on display like that, and as soon as the story got out, the phone calls started coming. Associates, business partners, and the capos, all wondered what would happen next, but the answer was simple: they go to war. Everything else was just minor details. 

The blackout made it hard to navigate the city and find each other, but if people actually did their jobs then the rest of the family would be secured. With Marcel gone, everyone now looked to Leon, and there was only once place where Abel could think of where to find his cousin.

There was no knock on the door, no announcement, just the twisting of the doorknob and slow and steady footsteps approaching the desk; Leon sat facing the wall of his office, and when the question was posed, Abel went straight to the point.

“We have to strike back.” The details were still hazy but there was no doubt in his mind that it was the Sinclairs who did it; payback, it was the only motive, for the death of one Paisley Sinclair. A murder that the Costellos didn’t commit. “But we also need to get your affairs in order.”

Abel served as consigliere to his uncle for years, replacing Gio when he was incarcerated, and with news of Marcel’s death reaching everyone in the organization in and out of the city, the succession would help ease the doubts and unrest of those below them.

Hearing his cousin’s, now consigliere’s voice, Leon turned to face him. He was right. They had to plan. “Violet’s handling logistics,” Leon said. He couldn’t say funeral. The word didn’t seem fitting despite how factual it was. He also didn’t feel like going into detail over their recent reconciliation.

“As for retaliation,” he paused, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, passing the bottle and an empty tumbler for Abel to serve at his leisure. “Morgan Sinclair is going to fucking suffer.”

Morgan being behind bars was sweetened by the fact that the man was trapped inside with Gio Costello.  Leon downed his glass.

“You think Gio would be interested in sending a message for me?”

“That’s the thing, no? Nothing will change a thing now.”

Nothing could change anything when he was still alive either. Loving him, hating him, it never seemed to really matter, not when it came from her instead of her siblings. There would be more blood spilled. Leon was in charge now and everyone would expect him to do something, to retaliate. “Mom’s dead, dad’s dead. Who’s next now?” Their mother’s death was not something she brought up often, it was not something that was talked often by anyone, or so it seemed. Marcel and Guinevere children was all that was left of them, but for how long?

“Who’s next?” Leon raised a brow at his sister’s question. “Whoever the fuck I want to be next.” Too long Leon’s waited, standing behind his father’s decisions while the Sinclairs reckless destroyed the city they lived in. With a crown prematurely ripped from his father’s skull and he would ensure those responsible would face a fate worse than death. Death was too easy; a quick escape from the harsh realities of consequence. 

“Stop saying that. And I will. I’m going to go full Rococo if you don’t stop talking like an idiot. Dad can’t be dead. He’s … Dad. He has a hundred bodyguards and never leaves the house without a Glock. Or a Sig Sauer, or whatever, I don’t do guns. He’s fucking scary. No one could kill him.” She reached over and took the bottle back. Delusional liars didn’t get Grappa. “I will gilt every single goddamn surface of this stupid office if you try and lie to me again about Dad.” Her voice had gotten higher, so she took another swig of the brandy. She hiccuped and it came out as a tiny sob, before she drank more to cover it. “So what, did you do it, then?” She didn’t mean it, and only said it to try and make Leon admit that it was all some stupid lie that he’d made up, some joke. She needed things to remain normal. Was that asking too much?

Leon held in his frustration as Sofia’s denial slowly faded into anger. So what, did you do it, then? He stayed quiet after he spoke, his first instinct to lash out. Leon’s first instinct always involved some sort of outburst. Though, he was smarter than his impulses and knew Sofia wasn’t the cause of his wrath. Leon would be Sofia’s punching bag for the night. Never the other way around.

“Sof,” he began, his voice soft. Well, as soft as possible for a man with only hard edges. “I’m sorry.” He wanted to say something that would help ease the pain she must be feeling, now an orphan. A father gone before his time and a mother she never had the opportunity to know. “I’m not going to rest until they suffer,” Leon said. Though, that eased his mind more than it would his sister’s. He paused, wished Vi was around; she would know what to say. 

A dark laugh escaped her. It wasn’t funny, it was goddamn tragic, but Mia couldn’t help herself. “You think I should fight whoever pulled the trigger.” It simply stated, a reality so obvious they both knew it. Except that Mia could only really blame one person for this death. “He might not have pulled the trigger himself but he’s the one responsible.” It was all his doing, all his fault. Marcel Costello had no one else to blame but himself for dying. “I hate him. I hate him for that,” she spat at her brother. Her voice was threatening to break but she didn’t care. Mia didn’t have the strenght to care right now.

“Hate him all you want, Mia. It won’t change a thing.”

I’ve put you through worse. The comment ticked a corner of her mouth upwards. He had. Some of it more enjoyable than others. The high from being with him again made the memory of him leaving a more bearable than it had been before tonight. The way a shiver blossomed from strong hands, goosebumps dotting her skin as she examined the hatch above her. She wanted to just stay and ignore the rest of the world, but she knew before long she’d be pacing the tiny box, eager for a breath of fresh air.

She knew they had a family to look out for. He’d nodded when she asked him to come back with her. A bed sounded far more preferable to an elevator.

Violet slammed her fist against the metal, testing the strength, and noticed the latch was loose. Slender fingers plucked a knife from her back pocket, keeping her muscles taut for balance as she wedged the blade underneath the lock. Her balance faltered a bit when she slammed her palm into the handle, working the blade further with every hit. A hand dropped down to grab Leon’s forearm when she wobbled, only for a moment, then she gave the handle a couple more blows before she heard a hollow clink.

She returned the knife to its place in her pocket and pushed the hatch open above them. “Lift me higher so I can climb up.” Violet already had her fingers hooked on the edge, waiting for the hike she needed to pull herself up.

“Toss me my jacket when I get up there too.”

Leon complied and Violet heaved herself upward, getting on top of the elevator. Once she got her bearings, she laid on her stomach, hooking her legs on one of the metal rods behind her, and dropped her arms down.

“I mean, really, what would ya do without me?”

Leon held steady as Violet worked and complied to her instructions as she gave them. Tossing up her jacket, he smirked up at her and replied, “probably crash and burn.”

He put his shirt on then, picked up his phone and returned it to it’s place in his pocket.