Blood Owes Blood, But I Owe Them Nothing

Start Reading

The night before the initiation trial, the Russo jewel had a birthday.

Lorenzo Vitale, the jewel's man, proposed that the whole crew slip off to a backroom club to toast her and loosen the nerves before the ceremony that would decide who among us got made.

What stunned me was that the young hopefuls of our inner circleevery one of them groomed for discipline, drilled to keep their heads down until the seal was in their handvoted for it, all of them.

In my last life, I held rank among us, trusted to keep the crew in line. I stood against something that reckless. I told them we should be resting, steadying our minds for the most important night of our lives, not drinking in some off-book joint hours before we stood in front of the bosses.

Lorenzo looked at me, cold as a closed door, and said, "You're just jealous again."

The others piled on with their sneers and low laughter. "Look at her, acting so high and mighty. You're just sour that Lorenzo dotes on the jewel and not on you."

I let their contempt roll off me and begged them, plainly, not to go. That night I even called each of them, one by one, making certain they stayed in their beds and rested.

The next morning, under the thick heat of early summer, I arrived early at the hall where the ceremony would be held. I called them again, urging them to leave on time, wishing them luck.

They all did well. Every one of them passed the trial clean, and a few earned marks the old men would speak of for years.

But just as we were celebrating, the devastating word came down.

The jewel, Bianca Russo, had gone to that club alone the night before. She got drunk, she was assaulted, and she came out of it broken.

Unable to carry the shame and the collapse of it, she tried to take her own life, opening her wrists.

Lorenzo took her last call. When he heard her final words, he went completely mad.

The very next day he and several of the crew cornered me on the rooftop of the family compound. Without a breath of hesitation, they threw me off. I fell and died where I hit.

When the Feds came asking, every one of them told the same lie, word for word:

"She warned us not to help Bianca."

"She said anyone who went to that club would be barred from the ceremony."

"She was so afraid of failing, she jumped herself."

They twisted all of itthe calls I made that night, the footage that showed who left for the hall and when. They turned every piece into a rope for my neck.

Then the Family's rumor network turned on me. The street-level men, whipped blind with fury, dug out where my people lived, harassed my blood, painted me as a cold and jealous monster.

One night someone doused our house in gasoline and set it burning. My mother and father died in that fire.

Lorenzo, who lived next door, stood on his balcony with his arms folded and watched the flames.

He heard my parents screaming for help and didn't lift a finger until it was finished. Then he called for helpas if nothing at all had happened.

I never knew, not until I was dead, that all of it, every last piece, had been arranged by Bianca.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn. The same night, the same people, the same words.

Lorenzo stood tall beside Bianca and announced, "See you all at the club tonight!"

This time, I simply took up my bag, turned my back, and walked away.

Let them do whatever they want.

Let them drink, and laugh, and pretend at happiness.

I won't spend a single breath trying to stop them.

Never again will I burn myself down for people who never deserved the warmth.

After I died, Bianca made her confession in front of the whole underworld. Before a sit-down of every boss who mattered, with the word set to travel every street by morning, she wept, pitiful and lovely:

"Even though she bullied me, even though she forbade anyone from helping me, the dead deserve their respect. I forgive her."

She sniffled, dabbing at tears that were not there, her eyes coming clean a half-second too fast.

"But what happened to me left a shadow I can't crawl out from. I can't stand for the trial anymore. I've decided to leave, to take my place in a distant city instead. I'm sorry I couldn't earn my seal and my standing the way I dreamed."

Bianca had always sold herself as the born prodigy, the beautiful one destined to be made with honors.

Now, hearing this, the whole room softened toward her.

"You're so brave. So forgiving."

"You're still an example to all of us."

"You're incredible, Bianca."

Her name spread through the Family like wildfire in a single night, spoken with reverence at every table.

But when the doors closed and the audience was gone, the mask came away.

She curled in her bed with some strange man, her voice bright with pleasure.

"I've always cheated my way to my standing. If I'd stood in front of the old men for that trial, they'd have seen through me for certain."

"Lucky for me I thought of this. It buried the pregnancy and handed me the perfect reason to skip the whole thing."

"I meant to lure Lorenzo to that club and hang him for it too, but that bitch Adriana Falcone wrecked the whole plan. Still, it landed soft. Now Lorenzo's so eaten up with guilt he swears he'll answer for me and the child."

She laughed, wild and high, a sound sharp enough to scrape the soul from your bones.

I wanted to lunge at her, close my hands around her throat, make her pay for every last thing.

But before I could move, a familiar voice cut into my thoughts.

"Adriana, why are you always so angry?"

"Bianca invited the whole crew to her birthday. She even invited you. Can't you show a little gratitude?"

"You act like you stand above the rest of us just because you keep your discipline. So what? Bianca gets more eyes on her than you'll ever have, just by being who she is."

"You trail after him like a whipped dog and he won't even look your way. Now that he's toasting Bianca, you can't stand it, can you?"

Those voices, the ones that once followed me all the way down to my death, were ringing fresh in my ears again.

But this time, I wouldn't fight them.

This time, I'd fight for myself.

I stood frozen, and the truth of it landed in my chest like a knife between the ribs. This was the night before the initiation trial.

I pinched myself. It hurt. Tears fell instantly.

I had really been reborn.

The laughter around me faded. The young hopefuls who had just mocked me now fell silent, the way a room of made men goes quiet when the Don crosses the threshold.

"Did we go too far? She's only doing this for our own good," someone murmured.

Bianca's eyes turned red as she choked out, "Adriana, I didn't know you hated me so much that you'd curse all of us to fail the trial. We're the Family's inner circle. How could we stumble just for celebrating my birthday?"

Lorenzo stepped up, shielding her the way a soldier plants himself in front of what the boss values, his eyes full of disdain.

"Don't worry," he sneered. "We're not like you. So scared of the trial you run to the toilet a dozen times, and then still fall short because of it."

"It's just the initiation. Naturals like us walk through it."

The crew burst into laughter.

I clenched my fists. My chest tightened.

During the placement trial in our second year, the pressure wrecked my stomach. I kept needing the bathroom, breaking my concentration again and again. I didn't clear the cut to be groomed with the inner circle.

After that trial, I hid in the storeroom behind the club, silently crying.

Back then, Lorenzo had found me. He gently wiped away my tears, concern written all over his face.

"I asked your mother's cook to make you some broth. I know you're hurting. But if you didn't do well this time, you'll do better next time. I'll help you catch up. We'll be made together, side by side."

I truly believed our quiet thing between us would lead to something beautiful.

Then Bianca came into the Russo fold. Everything changed.

I took a deep breath and relaxed my hands, my fingers grazing the little saint's medallion at my throat before they stilled.

Ignoring their laughter, I calmly packed my bag.

"You're right," I said quietly. "In that case, I hope you all have fun."

They were stunned. I didn't scream or weep the way they'd expected.

The laughter froze. The room was quiet.

Some of the young soldiers shrugged awkwardly and changed the subject, arguing over what to pour.

"The fruit wine's only three percent. No way that touches us before the trial."

I scoffed to myself.

That club's "fruit wine" could drop a grown enforcer with a single glass.

The Family's infirmary front had taken in more than a few of these young hopefuls, half-dead from poison, most of them from that same back room.

In my last life, I'd tried to stop them because of it.

In this one, I wouldn't waste my breath.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, ready to go.

To my surprise, Lorenzo didn't look pleased. He frowned.

As I turned to leave, he suddenly seized my wrist.

"No. You're coming with us."

The room went still. Every eye turned.

"Why would she come?" someone asked in disbelief. "She'll poison the whole night."

Bianca chimed in softly, eyes wide, voice full of gentle concern.

"What if Adriana comes tonight and fails the trial tomorrow, then blames me? That would be so unfair."

Her tone was sweet, but her eyes betrayed her fear. And the hand not raised to her cheek had drawn into a fist at her side, white at the knuckle.

She was afraid I'd actually leave with Lorenzo.

If I were there, how could she pour enough wine into him to blame her condition on him?

Lorenzo scoffed.

"Don't forget who she is. Remember the feast day? The instructor forgot to set our drills, and she just had to go asking for the practice papers, then went down the line messaging every one of us, ruining the holiday."

The room went completely silent.

Several of them glanced at me with mixed expressions: disdain, irritation, discomfort.

I smiled bitterly at myself.

Those had been drills copied from an enemy Family's top grooming circle. The year before, half of what they contained had shown up in the real trial.

Our instructor had gone out of her way to bring them to us, to sharpen us.

I was afraid no one else would know, so I reached each of them one by one.

What I thought was duty, they saw as meddling.

What I thought was helping, they took as a nuisance.

I understood then how little they grasped, how easily they twisted a thing into its opposite.

This time, I wouldn't try to play the hero.

Let them drink.

Let them celebrate.

Let them meet the consequences they were so eager to invite.

I would choose myself.

This life, I would not spend it on people who never truly saw me.

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows. "Maybe this time she'll go crying to her old man again, run to her people."

I finally snapped. "I'm not that idle."

I forced down the fury rising in my chest. "I swear. I won't interfere, I won't call anyone. Okay? I just want to go home, rest, and be there tomorrow, clean, for the trial."

I reached for my bag, but he yanked it from me.

"What are you doing?!" I shouted, panic crashing over me.

In the next second, he pulled out my initiation token and held it high. The little sealed seal that meant I had a place at the ceremony. Without it, no one would let me through the door.

My face went pale. I lunged at him. "You're insane! Give it back!"

Lorenzo dangled the token just out of reach, like taunting a kitten. "I don't trust you. Now that I've got this, you won't try anything stupid. Don't ruin Bianca's night."

My eyes burned with tears as my voice cracked. "Lorenzo, you bastard!"

The hatred in my eyes startled him. His tongue wet his lower lip, and his gaze flicked toward Bianca before it came back to me. His expression faltered, and his voice softened.

"As long as you don't run your mouth, I'll give it back. Didn't we promise to be made together, side by side? Of course I'll return it to you."

"Just don't mess up Bianca's eighteenth."

I stared at him, heart sinking like a stone.

Eighteen years of memories. Two children on the same block, raised in the shadow of the same men.

But my standing, my future in this Family, meant less to him than one girl's birthday.

I trembled, silently watching him.

He avoided my gaze, then gave a careless smile and turned to the others.

"Crisis averted. Everyone, enjoy the night."

Bianca immediately wrapped herself around him, her voice sweet and delicate.

"Thank you, Lorenzo. This is the best gift anyone's ever given me."

His ears turned red, but he didn't push her away. Instead, he gently played with a strand of her hair.

"As long as you're happy," he said.

The room of young hopefuls erupted, the noise nearly lifting the low ceiling of the off-grounds hideaway.

"The best gift isn't the party, it's clearly our man Lorenzo, right?"

"Hey, we're all grown tonight. A kiss wouldn't kill anybody!"

Lorenzo chuckled. "Cut it out."

But the flicker in his eyes was unmistakable.

I stood in the corner, watching it all unfold, my nails digging so hard into my palms I nearly drew blood.

Laugh all you want.

Let's see if you're still laughing tomorrow, when the bosses are watching.

I didn't even bother to grab my bag. I turned and walked out.

But they weren't done with me.

Lorenzo's voice rang out, cold. "Lock her in the back room."

"Let her out after it's over."

I froze, eyes wide. "You're insane! Let me go!"

Several of the young soldiers grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back, and dragged me toward the old storeroom at the rear of the building. The air back there was thick with dust and the sour ghost of spilled liquor.

They flung me down onto the ground. Pain shot through my arm as blood scraped across the raw concrete.

Lorenzo hesitated for a second, but then his face hardened with resolve.

He picked up my phone and stomped on it until the screen went black.

"Don't be petty," he said flatly. "Just stay put. I'm the one they trust to keep the crew in line. I'm just helping everyone enjoy the night. If it were your night, I'd do the same."

"Just wait here. I'll come get you later."

Then he pulled the door shut.

The heavy iron slammed home. Darkness swallowed me whole. Somewhere beyond the wall, the party went on, muffled and careless, a world that had already forgotten me.

I lay there, calling for help until my throat went raw.

Time passed. Minutes, maybe hours. Then footsteps echoed outside on the concrete.

I scrambled up, desperate. My hand went to the small saint's medallion at my throat, closing around it. "Help me!"

The door creaked open.

It was my father.

He rushed inside, eyes frantic, and pulled me into his arms, the scent of him, antiseptic and cedar, the one clean thing in that whole poisoned place.

"Sweetheart? What happened? I couldn't reach you. I called Lorenzo, and he said you were at a party..."

"How could you slip off to some crew party the night before the trial? I knew in my gut something was wrong." My father's voice trembled, the reading glasses already coming off, folding slow between his fingers. "I went out searching for you. It never once crossed my mind they'd have you locked inside the Family's own grooming grounds."

"Was it the Vitale boy? I swear on my blood, he doesn't walk away from this."

Two lifetimes I had carried the memory of burying him. Now he stood in front of me, breathing, warm, whole. It broke me. I threw myself into his arms and burst into tears.

He went still, a healer's hands hovering, unsure how to comfort his own daughter. "It's over now. Don't be afraid. Tell your father what happened."

"I'm fine," I whispered, wiping my face, forcing the calm back into my voice.

It would be so easy. One word to the right capo and Lorenzo's whole night would come crashing down, and Bianca's little celebration with it.

But that wouldn't be enough.

I wanted them to regret it for the rest of their lives.

When my mother arrived and saw the bruises, the raw scrapes on my arms, her face emptied of everything. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up and removed one earring, setting it down on the hall table with terrible care. The men near the door found reasons to be elsewhere.

But I only said, "I'm fine, Mama. I don't want to stay here anymore. I want to be sent away to run things in another city. Somewhere far. With you."

In my past life, I turned down a chance to build something of my own in a distant territory, all for Lorenzo's cheap promise. We'll get made together, side by side.

And what did that loyalty buy me? Humiliation. Betrayal. A heart in pieces.

This time, I wasn't about to stake my whole future on him keeping my initiation token safe.

I gave up the trial.

When we got home, I collapsed onto the bed and drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by the ghosts of the life before.

When I woke again, my pillow was soaked with tears.

I took a deep breath, slid the chip back into my old phone, and powered it on.

The Family's rumor network was already flooded, photos from the crew, from Lorenzo, from Bianca, everyone flaunting their night off the sanctioned grounds.

In one shot, Bianca leaned against Lorenzo's chest, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with that coy, practiced smile. He looked soft. Indulgent.

But my eyes went to what sat behind them, the empty cans of that contraband fruit liquor stacked up in a careless pile.

They'd poured down that much? Forget the trial tomorrow. Some of them might not open their eyes at all come morning.

Someone had even posted a clip.

"Give her a kiss!" a voice hollered, and the crew roared their approval.

Lorenzo wrapped his arms around Bianca and kissed her deep, like a starving man, like he couldn't get his fill.

Nothing rose in me but disgust. I killed the video.

Then a new notification surfaced. Bianca had put up a story, set so only I could see it.

The moment I opened it, breathless little gasps spilled out of the speaker, suggestive, staged.

My stomach turned.

I didn't need to look close to know whose body was tangled with hers in the dark. It was Lorenzo.

Then her voice came, mocking, thick with false breath.

"Adriana. Lorenzo told me he loves me. He's going to make me his the moment we're both made. Why would a girl like you ever think she could stand against me?"

Then she posted a photo.

Torn paper. My initiation token, ripped into worthless shreds.

"I made him choose," she went on. "He tore your token up without a flicker of hesitation. Said it was the cleanest way to be rid of you and dodge getting sworn in beside you."

"I can't wait to see your face tomorrow. Enjoy your extra year among the young hopefuls. Congratulations in advance on staying exactly where you are~"

Even though I'd expected it, half braced for every word of it, it still hit like a punch to the gut. My chest tightened.

Three years of grinding, of proving myself in every trial they set, reduced to a pile of trash on the floor.

Just then, the phone rang out in the sitting room.

I stepped out and found my father answering, his face going stunned, his voice climbing with a doctor's urgency.

"What? One of the young ones? A hopeful set for the ceremony? Poisoned liquor? Fine. I'm coming now."

His color had drained. Sweat stood along his forehead.

When he looked up and saw me, he must have read it as fear for my crew.

He tried to steady me. "Don't worry. Might not be anyone from your circle at all. I'll go and see. And even if it is, I'll get them right in time. They won't miss the trial tomorrow."

I looked at that worried, decent face and remembered how, in my past life, I'd carried the very same worry.

That night, in the life before, I had even dragged him down to wait near the shuttle stop, just in case any of the crew turned up too far gone to stand, so he could bring them around fast enough to be sworn in.

I never expected that in my past life, those ungrateful vipers would swear before the whole underworld that my father had threatened the crew on my behalf.

That lie sent the street lynch mob storming our door, and they cut down my entire family under the banner of avenging Bianca.

But this time, I will never let my father get dragged into this mess again.

...

The next morning, I ate the breakfast my father cooked in the back kitchen of the Family's infirmary and rode across town to the grooming circle.

As the hour of the initiation trial drew near, the courtyard where the young hopefuls gathered stayed unnaturally quiet.

The men who oversaw us looked more anxious by the minute.

"What's going on? Is the inner circle skipping the trial?"

The capo who ran our training walked over, drawn and gray, a handful of young soldiers trailing behind him, pale and unsteady on their feet.

When they saw me, they looked away, shame and regret written all over their faces.

The overseeing Don's expression was grim. He listened to the capo's stumbling account, and his fury broke loose.

"I warned you, again and again, watch what you eat, keep your discipline before the ceremony. And you go drinking contraband at some backroom bar the night before?"

"Now only five of you can stand for the trial. The rest? Laid out for their stomachs to be pumped. Some fighting for their lives?"

"Have you lost your minds? You're throwing away your own standing, and dragging my name down into the dirt with you."

His voice carried, and it drew the attention of the fathers gathered nearby and the men who trafficked in the Family's rumors.

"Dio, we watch every plate we set before our sons these days, and these boys drank themselves half to death?"

"They found time to party and drink, at a time like this? And these are meant to be the ones getting made? A gang of gutter rats, more like."

"My boy's no prodigy, but at least he keeps his word. The fathers of these so-called jewels must be sick with shame."

"I've carried word through this life a long time, and I've never seen a whole crew poison itself the night before they're to be made."

The men jotted names, murmuring into ears that would carry it through the streets by nightfall.

The overseeing Don's face went ashen. "It's over. I'm finished. The whole thing is finished."

The made man who had always favored Lorenzo and Bianca went pale. "Where are Lorenzo and Bianca? They were the ones we staked everything on."

The Don's aide bowed his head. "We still can't reach them. We've put out word to every corner."

The overseeing Don swayed, one hand pressed to his chest. Then his eyes found me, and hope flickered in them.

"Adriana keeps her discipline. She stayed clear of them. We can still put one of ours forward with honor."

I lowered my eyes and spoke with borrowed remorse. "Lorenzo was afraid I'd inform on him, so he took my initiation seal. He hasn't shown his face since. I doubt I'll be allowed to stand for the trial."

The overseeing Don dropped where he stood.

Chaos broke out. Some hauled him toward the infirmary; others herded the surviving hopefuls toward the ceremony grounds.

I climbed into the car. The air inside sat heavy, and someone had already started to weep.

"My father's going to kill me. I never should have gone to that bar."

"What do we do now? I'll never earn my standing. It's all Bianca's fault."

I stared out the window, listening to them sob, my face empty of anything.

Didn't you all call yourselves the chosen ones? Was the trial only ever a formality to you?

So what are you crying for now? Afraid you'll fail?

When I reached the ceremony grounds, they turned me away, just as I knew they would. I carried no seal.

One of the young soldiers overheard and looked at me, guilt in his eyes. He whispered, "I'm sorry."

Once it was settled that I would not be allowed inside, I turned and left.

My father's face was pale with rage. His heart broke for me, but the curses he spat were all for Lorenzo.

Before we had even cleared the grounds, the thing had already caught fire through the underworld.

The fathers of the inner circle's finest called their own sit-down, spoke with one voice, put out word to every family, and sent for their consiglieres.

They demanded a reckoning from the overseeing Don, from Lorenzo, and from Bianca.

A disgrace like this, on the eve of the initiation, ran through the underworld faster than any wire.

The Family's rumor network turned on Bianca Russo all at once, every whisper along the streets branding her a "walking curse."

After going to ground for a full day, Bianca surfaced at a hastily called sit-down, her confession recorded for every boss to hear. Lorenzo sat beside her, worn thin, the color gone from his face.

Tears streaked her cheeks, and she sobbed as she spoke. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would end like this. We only wanted to toast the ceremony. It was Adriana Falcone who insisted on bringing the wine, said it was light, said we could drink freely."

"Even though everyone had a bit too much that night, we got to the infirmary in time and we were fine. It was Adriana who wanted revenge. She got her father, the capo who runs the Family's infirmary, to poison us on purpose. That's what put the boys under."

She nudged Lorenzo. "You grew up next to her. You can back me up, can't you?"

Lorenzo froze. At her urging, he lifted his head. His eyes flickered, and he wet his lower lip, gaze cutting to the bosses seated at the head of the table to see whether the story was landing. Then he gritted his teeth and spoke.

"Yes. I can confirm Adriana insisted on the wine. She was jealous of Bianca and the ones set to be made. And her father really does run that infirmary."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Had they lost their minds?

And somehow, they believed the lies.

Moments before, the same mouths had been screaming to hold the Russo and Vitale houses accountable.

Now they turned, and came for me and my father instead.

Bang! The car window shattered, and a length of pipe caught my father across the forehead. Blood burst out instantly.

The car screeched to a halt. I slammed into the windshield. Everything went black.

Through the ringing in my skull I could just make out the voices closing in on us, a street lynch mob whipped into thunder:

"Kill this heartless pair! They put my son in the ICU just to grind their own crew down. They deserve to die!"

Another father roared:

"They had it coming! That healer covered for his own blood. Break his hands and see who he saves after that!"

I screamed with everything I had. "We didn't do it! Check the warehouse cameras. I was never at that party. My father wasn't even on the floor that night!"

My father, hurting, dragged himself over and put his body between me and them. "Don't be scared. Pap's here."

I sobbed and couldn't stop and cried out, "You've been played!"

Just then my phone lit with a message from Lorenzo:

"Sorry, Adriana. The Russos have nothing. If they come for Bianca, she's finished. Your family can carry the weight. Once this dies down, we'll wait out the season and get made together, all right?"

I laughed, bitter and low. So that was it.

Because Bianca had no tribute to pay, the mob simply turned their fury on me.

Because my family had money, they meant to tear a piece out of us.

"Lorenzo, you coward. May you rot."

They hauled my bleeding father and me out of the wrecked car and set on us with their fists.

One of them raised his phone and began streaming it, sending the beating out to every corner of the underworld.

Bianca and Lorenzo, watching from a distance, saw it too.

Bianca let out a slow breath and leaned into him, coy against his side. "Thank you for saving me, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo forced a smile, but guilt and fear clouded his face. "As long as you're safe, I'll do anything for you."

In the chaos, my mother came through them like a blade. She reached up, unhooked one earring, and set it in her palm with deliberate care.

She stood between us and them, and the sound went out of the street. "Don't you touch my husband and my daughter."

She held up her phone, her voice cold and even, a capo's wife who wielded fear as easily as any made man. "The ones who poisoned those boys are Bianca Russo and Lorenzo Vitale. The proof's already out. Don't believe me? Look for yourselves."

Everyone froze. Then, in silence, they looked down at their phones.

On the screens, the warehouse surveillance from that night began to play.