𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, ʲᵒʰⁿ ˢʰᵉˡᵇʸ

𝟎𝟐𝟕

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕

Madeline laughed as John lifted Katie to place the star on the top of the Christmas Tree. He had only been home a few weeks and Katie was glued to his side.

"Dad that's too high!" She squealed, gripping onto him for dear life. John chuckled and lowered her, spinning and hearing her laugh. "Dad stop—" Katie begged, a large smile on her lips. John sighed and put her on her feet, ruffling her hair.

James toddled over to his father with an ornament in his hand. It was a small, glass angeles. John smiled at his small son and lifted him from under his arms, allowing him to hang the ornament from one of the tree branches.

"Well done, my boy. Look at that." John praised, holding James on his hip. James smiled proudly, playing with his jumper sleeve.

"What have you asked Father Christmas for, eh?" He asked James. James shook his head. "Nothing." He said. John raised a brow. "Nothing?" He asked. James nodded. "I have it already—" James pointed toward Juliette who was asleep in Madeline's arms.

John followed where he had pointed to and realised what he meant. "That's lovely, James." John nodded, "that's really nice."

Madeline sighed. "I think it's time you two go and get ready for bed, no?" She suggested, understanding that it wasn't that late but knowing the children would not sleep straight away from excitement.

Whilst Madeline tucked the children into bed, John searched through the small pile of post that sat untouched on the desk.

Nothing caught his eye until it did. He swallowed hard, carefully opening it up and revealing what seemed to be a black hand. His heart dropped. John ran a hand over his mouth and reached for the phone.

"Arthur, have you checked your post?" He asked lowly. "I just got served the black hand." He said shakily. "I just got delivered a black fucking hand to the house. From Luca Changretta."

"Jesus— Jesus Christ." Arthur mumbled. "Wait a minute, John. Which one was Luca?"

"The old man's oldest son. He was going to get done for killing a bank clark in a robbery so his old man sent him back to New York. You know what the black hand means among the wops, Arthur? It's Mafia shit. The Sicilian fucking Mafia. Just check your post, Arthur." John put the phone down and took the card back into his hands.

Madeline stood at the door. "Did you say Mafia?" She asked, a hand on the doorframe.

"Mads, I need to make a call." He said and took his cigarette from between his lips. Madeline stormed in. "No—" she said. "I need to make a fucking call." He repeated as she shoved him away, snatching the card from the table.

"Give it here—"

"What the fuck is this?" She rushed across the room and held it up into the air. "Give it here!" John shouted at her but she pushed him back again. "Not until you tell me what the fuck it is!" She pleaded.

"Give it here!" He roared, refraining from getting aggressive as she pushed him again.

"What is it?!" She demanded.

"It's from Luca Changretta. Arthur killed his dad." John explained. "I remember, it was Tommy who killed him." She said, lowering her arm. "It was fucking Arthur!" John spat angrily, "he pulled the trigger!" He got in her face. "Alright? It was mercy but it was Arthur. Anyway it makes no fucking difference. For the wops, it's family."