“You fools!” Giovanni screamed, but no one could hear him. It was easily the worst part of being dead, other than being unable to enjoy wine. His shade stood in the center of Valentino’s dining room, helpless to do anything but watch as the carnage unfolded.

After Stefania landed her shot in his heart, Valentino’s guards leapt into action, only to be shot or cut down by her spies among the ranks. Although she had been drugged, Stefania got moving immediately, ducking to avoid gunfire. She slid on her knees to Valentino’s gasping form, drawing the dagger from inside her coat.

Stefania plunged it into her cousin’s back, grabbing his dagger and rising in time to meet her cousin Lorenzo, who had pulled out a knife of his own. She parried his blow and the two circled each other in a bitter dance. Both had drunk the wine, but Lorenzo had a good fifty pounds on her.

Giovanni groaned and pulled on his hair. It didn’t hurt, and after decades of being dead, he wished it would. Anything to distract himself from the chaos. While Stefania and Lorenzo traded blows, Valentino’s wife had gone to his body and sobbed over it. Guards battled one another, and the sounds of gunshots and screaming came from outside as his damned grandchildren’s hired men killed one another.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way, you idiots!” he spat.

It’s your own fault, you know. A familiar figure came into existence over Valentino’s body. This time, Death appeared in the fallen man’s own clothing, safe for the grinning skull. This didn’t have to happen.

“You!” Giovanni seethed at Death. “You must’ve cheated! You made this happen, didn't you? You manipulated them and are trying to make me lose!”

Death chuckled. I haven’t had to do anything, Giovanni. You did this all by yourself. I’ve never seen a man get this many family members killed at once. Truly, I’m impressed.

Giovanni’s fierce granddaughter feinted, and Lorenzo hesitated. It was just enough for her to bury a blade in his stomach and spill his guts. He dropped with a horrified expression. Stefania laughed and kissed him on the forehead before she kicked him to the ground, panting for breath.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Giovanni groaned, watching the spirits of Valentino and Lorenzo shimmer into existence. They looked better than they ever had, though shocked and upset.

Didn’t you? You pitted your family against one another, and for what? To try to get them to agree that one of them was better than the others, the true heir? Death walked over to Valentino, offering his hand.

“I tried, Grandfather,” Valentino said, blinking at the violence around him as if confused. “I was going to defang Stefania and bring the rest together.” He took Death’s hand. “It was going to be clean, honorable, and measured.”

It would’ve been surrender to Valentino the king, Death scoffed. You wouldn’t have brought them together, you would’ve brought them to heel. Then the man faded into the shadows.

Around them the fighting had slowed, with only a few survivors. Lorenzo looked around as both Valentino’s men and Stefania cornered his only son, bloodthirst uniting them against a common foe. Stefania killed her cousin and blocked the sword coming her way. She never saw the dagger coming from behind.

Giovanni looked away. Lorenzo, beast though he was, let out a muted cry upon seeing his child murdered. Then Diego’s spirit stood up. He was unnaturally calm, if a little sad, too young for this. Lorenzo ran up to him and threw his arms around the boy. Death came from behind, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

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This didn’t have to happen, you know. You could’ve taught your family love. And now, after the dust settles, how many descendants will you still have? Lorenzo and Diego shone with an inner light, shining bright until their light swallowed the room. And then they were gone.

“I never advised any of this,” said Giovanni. “I taught them to be strong, and to be direct, but not this. They have no idea what they’re doing to me!”

His beloved granddaughter pulled away from the blade, burying her dagger into her attacker’s throat. He fell to the floor, her on top of him. The fighting had nearly completely stopped at that point. The only two survivors were men in Valentino uniforms. They came up to Stefania, one dropping to his knees to check out her wound.

“This is bad,” he said,” looking away from his employer. “I don’t think we have anything for this…”

“Relax,” Stefania slurred, eyes focusing somewhere near where Giovanni stood. “I…At least my sons are safe. These bastards will never…” Her huffs for breath grew faster and shorter.

“Stefania, no,” Giovanni groaned.

The doors to the dining hall flew open. Stefania’s men came in, armed and bloodied. With them came Sofia, looking around in distaste but not surprise.

“You,” Stefania gasped. Her eyes darted around to her men behind the plump woman. “Kill her. Now.”

They stood there, silent.

“Yes,” said Sofia, “me. With a lot of help from Valentino and you. The two of you are so predictable. So goddamned arrogant. You looked at each other as threats and never once considered me. How could you? I’m beneath you.” She threw her head back and laughed.

Giovanni stared at his two granddaughters, enraged. “You two supported each other!” he shouted impotently.

No one supported anyone. That’s the point. Death laughed at him again. Giovanni shuddered and watched his favorite, his little terror, slow down.

“My…Sons…” Stefania choked out, body shivering violently as blood pooled between her fingers.

“Dead,” said Sofia. “At least, they should be by now. My own special thank you for years of providing for us while spitting on us. With the rest of you out of the way, I’ll pick up the pieces. You were wrong to look down on me, cousin.”

Stefania gathered the last of her strength and spat a glob of blood and phlegm at Sofia’s feet. It was the last thing she ever did.

When the day started, you had one living child, fourteen living grandchildren, and six great grandchildren. Now, you have one living child, five living grandchildren, and four great grandchildren. Death didn’t move across the room so much as suddenly appeared by Stefania’s emerging spirit.

Any regrets, Stefania? Death asked, putting a hand on her arm.

She looked at her grandfather, disappointment cutting him worse than hate ever could. “Is it true? Are my sons dead?”

Yes.

“Will you take me to them?”

Yes.

“Then…no regrets. Take me to my sons.” Stefania closed her eyes. “Goodbye Nonno.”

“Stefania,” Giovanni started, but it was too late. She was gone. Sofia and her men had left moments before, leaving just him, Death, and dozens of corpses.

I’m going to make you an offer, Giovanni. I will make this offer every so often, but I give you a choice. Will you move on and go to your final rest?

“What? Of course not,” Giovanni spat. “As long as one of my descendants lives, so will I. The Medinas will never die.”

Death shook his head pityingly. You can do nothing good by remaining. You’ve already failed your family. How much worse are you prepared to let it get?

Giovanni glared at the being. “I’ll admit, I have made some mistakes. But I am no fool. I will learn from this. Sofia. Sofia’s proved herself to be a deadly woman. I’ll follow her and her children. With this, she’ll have the family’s wealth, and have made a name for herself. She’ll do it better, if I guide her.”

Then you will continue? You are sure?

“I am. I will never turn away from this. The Medina’s will remain on top.”

Death stared him down, before sighing.

As you wish. It will not end well.