“I’ll do it!”

  Eva looked at me. “What!?”

  A smug smile broke across Luca’s face; clearly happy with my choice.

  “Ha-ha! I knew you would make the right choice! Come on back to the hospital, and we’ll make it official.” His enthusiasm was palpable, and I could see the excitement spark in his eyes.

  Just as I turned to leave, I felt a firm grip on my arm. I glanced down to see Eva’s hand clutching me tightly, her gaze intense and piercing.

  “Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice low and urgent, laced with genuine concern.

  The lines of worry etched on her forehead deepened, reflecting her belief that I was about to make a decision I might regret.

  “Like you said, I’ll still be living the same lifestyle,” I reassured her, trying to mask my own uncertainty.

  I knew she felt I was making the wrong choice, but the thrill of the returning to my old life tugged at me, urging me forward.

  With a heavy heart, I gave her one last, lingering look—the kind that conveyed all the unsaid words between us—before I climbed into my car. The engine roared to life, its familiar rumble grounding me momentarily amidst the swirling emotions, and I followed Luca as he navigated the familiar route to the hospital, the weight of my choice settling over me like a thick fog.

  Once we returned to the hospital, the atmosphere in Tony’s room was thick with anticipation. A few family members were gathered closely, their eyes lighting up as Luca swung the door open.

  He stood at the threshold, his voice booming with excitement, “He’s back!”

  Don Galeachi, stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on my right shoulder. His touch was firm yet comforting, grounding me in the moment.

  “Young man, if you don’t want to come back, you don’t need to,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying the weight of understanding.

  Galeachi could sense that this choice loomed large over me, a crossroads that could change everything. Yet, in the depths of my heart, I knew what I wanted.

  “I want to come back,” I replied, my voice steady, filled with determination.

  At my side, Luca’s face broke into a wide smile, his enthusiasm infectious.

  “Very well,” Galeachi replied, his tone shifting to one of formality. “You and Henry will need to meet me at the old church in Heywood in two hours so we can finalize everything.” His gaze lingered on me for a moment, as if he was weighing the gravity of my decision before he turned to bid farewell to Tom and Tony, who were both offering their supportive smiles.

  Henry, Luca, and I stepped out into the quiet hospital corridor, the fluorescent lighting stark against the warmth of the moment we just shared.

  “The good times are coming back,” Tom called after us, his expression beaming with optimism that both comforted and invigorated me as we made our way toward this new chapter.

  Darkness enveloped the city streets as we stood outside the weathered fa?ade of the old church in Heywood. The air was thick with the weight of anticipation, and a chill ran through me.

  “Come on. The second we get this done, the sooner we can go and celebrate,” Luca said, his grin wide and infectious, before he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Henry and I exchanged a nervy glance before following closely behind. Once inside, the church was shrouded in a profound quietness, the silence only broken by the faint rustle of our footsteps on the dusty floor. Shadows danced along the ancient stone walls, and, in the distance, the dim flicker of candlelight filtered up from the basement below, casting a warm glow that felt almost inviting amidst the oppressive darkness.

  Luca led the way downstairs, the creaking wooden staircase echoing beneath our weight. He paused at the basement door, glancing back at us.

  “It’s one at a time. Henry, you go first. Max, you wait out here.” His voice held an air of authority that left little room for argument.

  Henry nodded, swallowing hard, and stepped into the room, the door closing behind him with an ominous thud. Minutes ticked by, yet it felt like an eternity, each second stretching as my mind raced with memories of what was to come.

  “It’s not as bad as the first time you got inducted into the family,” Luca said, attempting to ease my nerves with a smirk.

  “Just a cut on the finger, right?” I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt.

  “Well, not exactly. Instead of your finger, it will be the bottom of your lip,” he clarified, his tone now more serious.

  A sharp KNOCK echoed from within the room, making my heart race.

  “That’s your cue.” Luca opened the door, gesturing for me to step inside.

  Once I crossed the threshold, he eased the door closed behind him, plunging us once again into a dimly lit space. Six flickering candles provided the only light, casting elongated shadows that wavered across the walls. At the head of a long, polished table stood Galeachi, his presence commanding and austere, like a king presiding over his court.

  He extended his arms wide, his face a blend of solemnity and authority. “Welcome, Max. Tonight, we welcome an old friend back into the family. As Don Almano is currently in the hospital, I have been bestowed with the blessing to reinduct you into our ranks.”

  One of Galeachi’s men stepped forward, a switchblade gleaming malevolently in his hand. He offered it to me, the metal cold and sharp against my palm. I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I awaited Galeachi’s instructions.

  “Max Carver. Do you swear your loyalty to the Almano crime family?”

  The question hung heavy in the air, a fragile moment where my choice could irrevocably seal my fate. If I agreed, there would be no turning back; my life would be entwined with theirs, leaving only a lifeless corpse as my escape.

  Every eye in the room pierced through me, seeming to search for any hint of hesitation in my expression. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on my shoulders.

  “...I do,” I finally said, my voice steady, wanting nothing more than to embrace my destiny.

  A smile broke across Galeachi’s face, one that seemed both pleased and predatory. “Then follow these steps.” He lifted his right index finger to the bottom left side of his lip and swiped downward with a decisive motion.

  Understanding his intent, I flipped open the switchblade, the metal glinting in the candlelight, and mimicked his movement, carefully slicing through the delicate skin of my lip.

  A sharp sting erupted, followed by the warmth of blood oozing from the fresh wound. A soldier came forward and swiftly wiped the blood away with a pristine white handkerchief, which he then dangled over one of the candles until the flame caught hold, licking greedily at the fabric.

  He returned, placing the now burning handkerchief in my left hand. The heat grew more intense, wrapping around my palm and beginning to sear into my flesh. The sharp sting of pain was relentless, but I refused to flinch or pull away, locking eyes with Galeachi, whose gaze bore into me as if testing my resolve.

  “Repeat these words. I sware my life to this family.” Galeachi said.

  “I sware my life to this family.”

  Galeachi continued, “If I break my word then I must burn. Like this fabric.”

  “If I break my word then I must burn. Like this fabric.”

  I watched the handkerchief burn, the flames consuming it slowly, the smoke curling upwards into the air until nothing remained but ashes and memory.

  “Welcome back, Max,” Galeachi said, his voice low and resonant.

  In that moment, I felt a rush of emotions—anxiety, ease, and delight—all swirling together as I realized I was back in the family. One by one, the members began to approach, congratulating me, their hands slapping my back in camaraderie. Luca moved next, pulling me into a fierce embrace, his enthusiasm palpable.

  “This is it, man. This city won’t know what’s coming,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement.