The second prong is Blood. Those taught the code is a symbolic holy thing think the second prong means the blood in our veins is sacred therefore Family members cannot kill each other. In reality, Family members have been killing each other since the Night of the Bleeding Crowns, they just usually ask The Council first. If they don’t ask The Council, they’ll most likely die too—but I’ve heard of men getting away with it.
The third prong is Gift. Those taught the holy version think the third prong means because we’re a family, because the blood is sacred, it’s right and good to tithe your earnings to the Boss—like a sacrifice to a god or something. The people who believe that usually stay soldiers their entire life. They believe that if they are loyal with their gifts, the Boss will gift in return, but those taught the code like me know the Boss never gives gifts.
The fourth prong is Honor. The holy version states the Family is held to some higher moral code than the rest of the world. Every time I hear a soldier, or the rare high-ranking man who believes the code say that, I have to stifle my laughter. I mean, they’re criminals, not monks. All honor means is that the members have to keep it in their pants with other member's wives or they’ll end up without anything in their pants.
The fifth and final prong is Brotherhood. Those taught that the code as holy think the final prong cannot be defined. It is the feeling one gets when they are about to fail and their brother lifts them up. It is the moment when they are about to die and their brother saves them.
That’s all shit.
Brotherhood is actually the De Luca rule. Yes, we get our own rule. If I had a nickel for every time I heard “though the De Lucas are the Pavonis’ greatest allies, the Pavonis and the De Lucas can never intermarry for there can be no question about who is the rightful heir”, I would be richer than Don Lucio. Even though on the Night of the Bleeding Crowns Grandpa Massimo willingly stepped aside to give Don Lucio the power, Don Lucio lived in fear. So he wrote up a rule under the guise of brotherhood.
Once you know the true Pavoni Code, though, no other rule matters. The true code for the men is: “Don’t let the Boss find out”, and the true code for the women is: “Don’t let your husband know.”
I closed the book, looking at it with newfound appreciation. I mean, holy shit. In less than five minutes the little book had given me more knowledge than my entire stay with the Beast. I may have just found the sharpest weapon in the house, but how to get it back to the room? And where to put it?
I glanced around the room and then back down at what I was wearing. There weren’t exactly any hidden pockets or pouches I could stuff it in. That night I’d opted for a periwinkle babydoll because it at least covered my stomach, but the material was sheer. With reluctance, I stuck the book back in its place, vowing to return for it later.
Tiptoeing back out, I was nearly back to the hallway when I was stopped by a glint in the corner of my eye. I backed up a bit until I was in the kitchen again. There were so many knives, all gleaming with the same glow as the countertops. I walked behind the island and touched one. With my finger lightly touching the blade, I looked down the hallway. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been gone, maybe fifteen minutes?
How long did I have left? The burning hatred that had pulled me from bed had dulled to a low simmer. I wasn’t sure I could actually kill him. Obviously I’d never murdered anyone before. I’d never even hit someone. I’d read lots of books with fiery, tenacious heroines who slapped men. I’d read books about women whose nature was quiet and docile but were pulled into circumstances that required them to fight.
My life didn’t really afford such opportunities. It hadn’t afforded me any opportunities. At home, I was like a seedling beneath soil, neither growing nor dying.
Eyes still locked on the hallway, I pulled the knife out. When I was sure he wasn’t about to walk down it, I admired the weapon in my hand. This one was more obvious than the one in the library. It was almost sexy looking, with its hard edges and the sharp steel color.
I turned it in my hand, my pulse rising. I could kill the Beast. I could shove this into his gut, blood running along the edges until it colored my hand. I balked at the newfound impulse in me, but didn’t put the knife away. The pad of my finger traced the edge lightly from top to bottom. Why bother reading a book when I could just walk back and end my problem so swiftly? I never thought I’d kill someone. I thought I’d go my entire life without having to make this decision.
His life wouldn’t matter.
I mean, the world wouldn’t mourn the loss. Maybe it would be better without him, even. It’s like killing Hitler—though people argue that if Hitler had been killed, it would have paved the way for even worse evils. So if I killed Beast, would something worse pop up?
What’s worse than the Beast?
I shivered, turning the knife slightly so the point pricked the middle of my palm. As the knife spun, my reflection caught in the steel, but there was something else there too—a shadow behind me much larger than my frame.
I spun around with gasp, dropping the knife on the ground with a sickening clang.
“Admiring my cutlery?” the Beast asked, gripping my waist. I pushed him but it did little to sway his oak of a body. He laughed as I pushed him again. I struggled to get by his massive frame. Whatever warmth had come with his laugh quickly turned cold. The Beast shoved me to my knees and my gasp turned to a whimper as my knees hit the floor, flesh and bone grinding against the hard tile.
His erection was a massive tent in his sleep pants. Demanding. I could practically see it beneath the thin, silky material. It was almost a threat the way it jutted out.
The lump in my gut, the bruising of my knees…it all told me what that threat was.
What it would mean if he followed through.
I struggled against the hand on my shoulder, trying to stand up, but all that did was bruise my knees further. I waited, feeling a sense of abject hopelessness. He was going to force me to do this whether I wanted to or not.
I waited for him to make a move.
And I waited.
“Just do it!” I yelled. It was just like with the apple. I didn’t want him to do it, but this lingering threat was like watching the sky go black before a tornado and never feeling the storm. I was just staring at the darkness.
Feeling the fear.
Waiting.
Minutes passed and nothing happened except the occasional caress of his thumb on my shoulder. I expected him to pull himself out and force me, but he did nothing. I was prepared for it even. An idea struck me as I entered what felt like the fifth minute of gut-wrenching silence. With my eyes closed I said, “If you put it in my mouth, I will bite it off.” I was sure there would be punishment for what I said, but I had to say it.