Page 111 of Thin Lives

“You bastard,” the man whispered, broken and bleeding.

Calisto didn’t react—that word didn’t hurt him.

“Affonso made me the bastard, remember?” Calisto smiled, knowing damn well it looked cruel. “I’ll ask one more time, and if you don’t give me an answer, one that satisfies me, I will let Connor continue his work. I think by now, you probably know he enjoys this … art.”

The man on the chains flinched, his gaze watery and pained. Spittle and vomit clung to his lips. He stunk of piss, sweat, and blood.

He wasn’t dead yet, though.

“Why?” Calisto repeated quieter. “What did I do for you to try and kill me all those months ago, Ray?”

Ray stared at him hard, defiant as ever. The man stayed quiet.

Calisto knew that he was going to have to rid his life of people like Ray. Men who were loyal to Affonso and would look twice at him when he stood in his uncle’s spot.

Men who clearly wanted him dead.

Ray, though, had asked for this.

After all he caused Calisto to lose with the accident that took away his memories, the man deserved this.

“Fine,” Calisto said with a sigh, taking a step away from Ray and handing the knife back to Connor. “I will see you in a few hours—”

“Because you didn’t deserve him,” Ray spat.

Calisto hesitated, his hand high to hand the knife over. He dropped his hand to his side, still holding the weapon tightly. “What did you say?”

“Affonso—you’re his boy, his blood. He loved you, no matter how awful you were to him. And you didn’t deserve even an ounce of what he was trying to give you, Calisto. You are, like you have always been, the spoiled little bastard of a whore. He needed to see you for what you were … nothing.”

Instead of reacting, Calisto took a breath to calm his inner rage. “And yet, he tried to kill me anyway—he didn’t need me once he had Cross, right? So the point you tried to make, Ray, was useless. Affonso never really loved me, not like you thought, obviously.”

Ray opened his mouth to speak, but Calisto was already turning away, done with the entire scene.

“One more question,” Calisto said as he handed the knife to Connor.

“What?” Ray spat out.

“Who killed Father Day? Which one of you killed my priest?”

Ray started laughing—bleak and weak. “Me. I killed the fucking fool. Affonso asked me to do it—I didn’t ask why.”

Good enough.

Calisto gave Connor a tight smile. “Make it hurt?”

Connor offered a pleased grin right back. “Every last second.”

Turning back to Ray with his knife in hand, Connor began humming again.

As Calisto reached for the door, Ray’s screams started to echo once more.

He finally recognized the tune Connor was humming, though.

London Bridge is falling down …

Emma

Affonso was unhappy.