Chapter 2 The Last Words

• Fifteen years ago, Naples.
• Santino was fourteen. Old enough to know death and Young enough to think it wouldn't find him.
• He walked beside his father through the narrow streets as the morning sun cast long shadows between the crumbling buildings. Ben Leandro moved like he owned every inch of pavement.
• "Pay attention," his father said. "Today you learn what it means to be a Leandro."
• They stopped outside a café. Three men sat at a corner table. Santino recognized one of them as Vincenzo Torrino. His father's rival. "Wait here," Ben said.
• "But—"
• "Wait here." Ben said as Santino watched his father walk inside. Through the dirty window, he saw the men stand. Saw them shake hands as they both sat back down.
• Everything looked normal. Then the first shot rang out.
• Glass exploded outward as people screamed. Tables overturned as the café erupted into chaos.
• Santino pushed through the crowd as His father stumbled out the door, blood spreading across his white shirt. Behind him, Vincenzo appeared with a smoking gun.
• "This is for Antonio," Vincenzo said. "You remember Antonio, don't you, Ben?"
• Ben fell to his knees. "Santino." His voice was weak. "Run."
• "I'm not leaving you." Santino said.
• "Run!" But Santino couldn't move, He Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think straight as Vincenzo aimed the gun at Ben's head. "Any last words?"
• Ben looked at his son as blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "Tell him about the—" The second shot cut him off.
• Ben Leandro crumpled to the ground. Dead as Vincenzo turned to Santino. "You see this, boy? This is what happens to men who forget their place."
• Santino stared at his father's body. At the blood pooling beneath his head. At his empty eyes.
• "Your father crossed the wrong people," Vincenzo continued. "Made promises he couldn't keep. Thought he was bigger than he was." Santino's hands shook. "You killed him."
• "I gave him justice. Your father took something that wasn't his. And when you steal from us..." Vincenzo smiled. "Well, you just saw what happened."
• "What did he take?" Vincenzo studied him. "You really don't know, do you?"
• Santino said nothing. "Smart man, your father was so Paranoid. Never told you about the safe, did he? Never mentioned what he hid from us?"
• "I don't know what you're talking about."
• "Of course you don't." Vincenzo said as he put his gun away. "But you'll figure it out. And when you do, you'll understand why he had to die."
• The man walked away as His friends followed. They left Ben's body bleeding in the street like garbage.
• Santino knelt beside his father. His blood was still warm. Still spreading.
• "What safe?" he whispered. "What did you hide?" Santino asked as his father's eyes stared at nothing. His mouth hung open. Whatever secret he'd tried to share was gone forever.
• Or so Santino thought.
• That night, he returned to their apartment. The place had been ransacked. Every drawer opened. Every floorboard was checked. Every wall was examined.
• They'd been looking for something. Santino searched too. For hours, days but he found nothing.
• But as he sat in his father's bedroom, staring at the chaos, he remembered something. The way his father always touched the wall behind his bed. Always paused there. Always seemed to be thinking.
• Santino pressed his hand against the cold stone. Felt along the edges as he pushed against each brick. One moved.
• Behind it was a small space. And inside that space was a key. Just a key. Nothing else.
• Santino held it up to the light. It was old, heavy, but engraved with a symbol he didn't recognize.
• He thought about his father's last words. "Tell him about the" About what? The key? The safe? The secret?
• And who was "him"? Who was Santino supposed to tell?
• Twenty years later, Santino still had the key. Still didn't know what it opened. Still heard his father's dying words echoing in his head.
• "Tell him about the—" The words that would haunt him forever. The words that would change everything.