Chapter 158: 158 ~ Jace
It was an ominous day.
Palermo smelled like rain and memory.
The sky was overcast, the kind of gray that matched the quiet pulse running through my veins.
Everything had been arranged hours before I arrived. The vineyard had been cleared, the chapel was lit and the men were stationed exactly where they needed to be. I had gone over the plan a hundred times, but I still walked the perimeter myself. I never trusted anyone else to do it perfectly. There was no room for mistakes.
The soil here had once been stained with blood. My father’s blood. His enemies’. Our enemies’. The list was endless.
It was a battleground of some sort. Symbolic for all the gory memories it held. And it was poetic, in a grim sort of way, that this was where I chose to finish it for Ricardo.
The car stopped at the edge of the estate. I stepped out into the wind, adjusting my cuffs as Tomas approached.
"Everything’s ready," he said quietly. "Ricardo’s convoy just left his compound. He’ll be here in less than an hour."
"Good," I replied, my eyes scanning the horizon.
The hills of Palermo stretched out endlessly, dotted with cypress trees and silence. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the faint whistle of the wind against the vines. It was a beautiful sight but I could never fully enjoy it because being here always meant serious business. Heaving a deep breath, I thought of Mira then.
The way she had looked at me that morning with her voice barely above a whisper.
’Please, just tell me what’s going on.’ Her eyes said even though her words seemed to be laced with fury but I could tell she was just frustrated.
I wanted to tell her. God, I really wanted to.
But what was I supposed to say? I’m going to lure my uncle into a trap and make sure no one finds his body whole?
No. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved peace and not the rot of my world.
Tomas soon handed me a file, breaking into my thoughts.
I raised a brow.
"Guest list," he explained. "Each man cleared, every name double-checked."
"Perfect."
I scanned it, though I already knew them all.
Old friends. New allies. A few opportunists pretending to mourn. None of them would leave untouched by what was about to happen.
We moved through the hall where the ’memorial’ would take place. The old vineyard chapel had been restored for this exact purpose. There was white marble floors, flickering candles, and a massive portrait of Enzo near the altar.
I studied it for a second.
He’d been smiling in that picture. I almost forgot he was capable of that.
Asshole, I thought, not wanting to cuss in the chapel.
Guilt didn’t haunt me anymore. Enzo had made his choices. Ricardo had made his too.
All I was doing now was delivering the consequence. It was a dog eat dog world we lived in. You either eat or be eaten and I’d be damned before I let incompetent fools eat me.
Tomas broke my thoughts yet again. "Security sweep is complete. Perimeter is sealed. Luca’s team is in position."
"Good." I nodded.
I turned and adjusted my cufflinks. They were black and gold, my father’s. The same ones he wore the night he told me, "Never aim for peace if war is what will keep them in line."
He’d been right. Peace in this world was an illusion. You had to buy it with fear.
The air shifted a little as I walked outside.
The guests began to arrive with sleek cars rolling up one after another. Men in dark suits. Women in black dresses.
The sound of murmuring filled the courtyard as they stepped out, heads bowed, eyes darting around.
I played my part well. The grieving cousin. The reluctant heir trying to honor family despite the fractures.
My face stayed neutral. Only Tomas and Lucas knew the truth.
At exactly the fiftieth minute mark, Ricardo’s convoy arrived. Always late because he liked to make an entry. Typical.
His car stopped in front of the chapel like he was arriving for a coronation, not a trap.
Even at his age, he carried himself with that same air of superiority that used to make my father clench his jaw.
He stepped out, cigar in hand, a faint smirk curving his lips when he saw me.
"Jacopo," he greeted, spreading his arms like this was a family reunion. "It’s been too long."
"Too long," I agreed smoothly. "Thank you for coming."
"How could I not?" He clapped a hand on my shoulder, the gesture both familiar and mocking. "Enzo was my son. Despite our differences, I still have love for family."
Family.
That word tasted bitter coming from him.
I motioned toward the entrance. "Please. Let’s not keep the others waiting."
Inside, the chapel glowed with candlelight. People whispered as we passed. The priest who was my hired man began the prayer once everyone was seated.
I sat near the front, my body was calm but my mind was as sharp as glass.
Ricardo took his place on the row in front of me, flanked by three of his men.
He leaned backward once, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
"You did well, nephew. I almost believe this is sincere."
I smiled faintly, not turning. "Maybe it is."
He chuckled. "Maybe."
The priest’s words droned on, verses about family, legacy, the sins of men.
Every syllable timed to perfection.
Then the second verse began.
Three soft knocks soon echoed. They were almost inaudible beneath the priest’s monotone.
My cue.
I glanced toward Tomas, who stood near the aisle pretending to check his phone. He gave a subtle nod.
The tension in the air thickened.
Even the candles flickered as if they sensed what was coming.
Ricardo rose halfway through the eulogy, as expected. Always the man who needed to be seen, to be heard.
He cleared his throat. "If I may," he began, stepping toward the front. "Enzo was not just my son. He was my pride, my lesson, and my greatest mistake."
He walked back and stopped beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "But if there’s one thing this family should learn from his death, it’s that betrayal always has a price."
The irony of him saying that almost made me laugh.
The priest paused.
I stood slowly, turning to face him.
"On that," I said evenly, "we agree."
His brows drew together slightly. That was the first flicker of doubt.
It was almost beautiful to watch.
The silence after that stretched too long.
Then came the sound of footsteps that were heavy and deliberate.
My men.
Ricardo turned just as Tomas stepped into view, flanked by my soldiers. Guns raised.
The look on my uncle’s face froze somewhere between disbelief and fury.
"You wouldn’t dare," he hissed.
"I would," I said softly. "And you know why? Because you made me."
He took a step back. "You think killing me makes you a man? Makes you the rightful Don?"
"No," I replied. "Killing you makes me free."
I didn’t have to give the order.
The shot rang out clean and sharp.
Ricardo staggered, his eyes wide, more shocked than afraid. He fell hard, his blood spilling over the pristine marble at the altar.
His men tried to fight back but they were outnumbered and neutralized in no time.
The guests gasped, some screamed, others just watched in silence frozen by fear.
The priest crossed himself.
I didn’t flinch.
Tomas moved quickly, his men securing exits, herding everyone out.
Within minutes, the chapel was empty except for the sound of rain hitting the windows and Ricardo’s body cooling on the floor as well as that of his men.
I stared at him for a long moment.
Another ghost added to my collection.
Another tie to the past severed.
When I finally spoke, it was more to myself than to anyone else.
"I told you, zio," I murmured. "This was never about peace."
Tomas stepped beside me. "We should move. Word will spread."
"Let it," I said. "Let them all know what happens when you come for me."
He nodded and turned to issue commands, but I lingered a moment longer, my eyes drawn to the flicker of candlelight.
Somewhere, in that quiet, I thought of Mira again. I thought of her hands, her voice and her fear.
She’d be pacing right now, checking her phone, wondering if I was alive.
I wanted to call her. I wanted to tell her it was over.
But it wasn’t.
Not yet.
Massimo was still out there.
And until I took him down too, this war wasn’t finished.
I walked out of the chapel as the sun began to glow through the clouds. The rain had stopped and the air smelled like new beginnings.
I slid into the car, leaned back, and finally pulled out my phone.
Her name lit up my screen, the wallpaper of her smiling face staring back at me.
I typed one message and hit send.
’It’s done. I’m coming home soon.’
Then I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and let the silence swallow me whole.
For the first time in years, I felt something dangerously close to peace.