THIN ICE |BOOK I |BWWM|

•ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 18•

•PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY•

Andres' POV

I think I truly lost my brother at a young age.

"Ugh."

I groaned inwardly as another wicked splatter of crimson fluid splashed across my eight-year-old forehead and lower lip. My spine stiffened as the bead of blood trickled down, tickling my cheek- teasing me to make a move.

I wouldn't dare fidget. The bridge of my nose wrinkled as my grandfather's prized bat mercilessly dealt the final blow to one of his men's head, separating his skin from his already exposed skull.

The man's name was DiCaprio. That's what we called him- my brother and I. Adrian hated anyone my grandfather had a problem with, but I actually liked DiCaprio.

He spoke his mind and wasn't afraid to buck against my granddad- kind of like my father, but Pops was an Underboss, so he had more room to let his mouth run.

My neck clicked as it turned to my wide eyed older brother's engrossed expression. His steel irises clouded with malice- something I didn't think a ten-year-old could even show.

The torture- it was entertaining to him.

The same demonic haze from when we were kids pierced me as my now 28-year-old brother drew his sharp knee back and plowed it into my rib cage.

DiCaprio's pleading quiver flashed through my mind as my grandfather showed just how barbaric he really was, but the blood on my lip wasn't his anymore, it was mine. I couldn't even move myself to wipe the unwanted body fluid from my battered skin.

Adrian finished his handiwork by clocking me in the temple with the butt of his gun- making blood pool in the corner of my right eye.

The men that retained me- men Adrian hired while I was in Atlanta- dropped my heavy body to the same icy floor I'd seen people fall to while negotiating with my Pops for their life.

My own puddle of cerise blood collected under my shaking knees as Adrian calmly unrolled his sleeves.

"Bet you've been itching to do me in huh?" -I spit out the pocket of fluid forming in my cheek- "You're just like him."

"And your weak -just like him." He snarled, referring to our father.

"The only weak thing about our father is that he had you. You're a hot-head. Nothing I do or say matters. Your temper makes you weak- and everyone knows it."

I staggered to stand as I thought about the meeting with the Russo family from this morning- the reason I was even in this situation.

~•flashback•~

Anticipation hovered over the group of impatient men as the financial heads of both families reviewed their respective benefits of the new deal.

"Are were in agreement gentlemen?" Don Vincent finally broke the silence.

My brother's rancorous stare harshly ran over Vincent's slightly wrinkled features. Vincent was a bit younger than our father had been, but he still maintained an older, more coarse appearance.

"This deal does nothing for us." I bit through his words and slid Adrian the sheets of paper.

"I'm sure your father would disagree."

"Our father's not here." -Adrian's voice commanded the room- "I'm the Don of the Maniscalco family now."

If our father and grandfather taught us anything, it was that asserting your new position as Don was vital if one wanted to be respected. No one wants to be lead by a spineless coward that's doesn't have the balls to step on a few toes.