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“You got one of them drunk enough to spill his guts.” His smile is edged now, wicked. “What did they say? What lies did they tell?”
“The bomb went off on Don Bruno’s car, which means the Bruno Famiglia didn’t plant it. Your father died in the blast, which means he didn’t either. My brother died, which means my family didn’t. Who planted the bomb?”
“There were a lot of interested parties back then. Mafia wars effect the entire city,” Danil says dismissively.
“No, that’s weak. That’s much too weak. Do you really think some random Capo would have enough access to the Don’s car to plant a bomb? And why do it when there’s a peace meeting going on? War is bad for business. It’s in everyone’s interest to end the fighting as soon as possible. You know something, Danil, and you’re hiding it from me.”
He looks frantic now. Eyes wide, jostling from foot to foot. I’m afraid of what he might do and my heart’s racing, but I have to keep going. There’s only forward for me now and I’m committed. Rattled men make mistakes.
“It was always them,” Danil says. “Fucking Casso and his fucking family. That peace was never supposed to happen, and only Don Bruno was supposed to die.”
My heart clenches, does a double-beat, and restarts its rhythm. I feel cold all over, the chill brushing along my skin. “You know who did it, don’t you?” So close to the truth now.
His jaw tightens, working up and down. “The meeting was at my father’s club. Nobody ever looks at the skinny little pale boy twice, do they? Nobody gives a damn about children. Adults think children aren’t capable of ruthlessness, but adults are wrong.” He paces back and forth, gesturing wildly in the air. “It wasn’t hard. The plans were all online. Once the old bastards sat down to chat and drink and make their deal, it was easy to slip underneath the SUV and tape the pipe right below the gas tank. The guards weren’t watching, not closely anyway. They were smoking cigarettes and staring at the door. All of them hopeful the war would end and their lives would continue on for another pathetic day. It was so easy, so damn easy, and I knew it would work. I knew the chemistry.”
“Something went wrong,” I press as he pulls at his hair, and I’m beginning to freak out as the implications of what he’s saying sinks in, but I keep going. I crossed the line already and there’s no going back. “What happened? Why did your father die?” I don’t add, why did you kill my brother?
“The trigger was supposed to be remote-controlled. I had a radio all set up, and when Don Bruno came out of the club alone, shuffling over to the car, I sent the detonate signal. But nothing happened. I don’t know why, I’ve thought about it a thousand times since then. I think I must’ve screwed up the wiring, or built a delay into the circuits where there wasn’t supposed to be one. But then your brother came after him, followed by my father, and they got to talking, standing right there. Right outside the car. I powered down the radio but it didn’t matter, not anymore. The fuse was lit and the devastation set in motion, only on a delay I hadn’t planned for. Thirty seconds after I hit that button, the bomb went off, and the one person I meant to kill somehow survived. I was ruined after that, utterly ruined, and all because of the Bruno Famiglia.” His eyes bulge as he turns to me, hands trembling and spread wide. “You see, don’t you? I did it all for you, Olivia. All of this was for you.”
“No, this wasn’t for me,” I say, shaking my head. My eyes fill with tears and my throat’s half choked with sorrow. Rattled men make mistakes. So this is finally the story of how my brother died. A half-crazy boy planted a bomb under a mafia Don’s car and screwed up the fuse trigger. That’s all, just a stupid mistake from a stupid, misguided teenager, and the ripples of that explosion continue on through the years, still ruining lives.
“But it was. Casso Bruno was a piece of shit to you, Olivia. He bullied you mercilessly and I watched it happen, day after day. I was powerless, and I hated him so much for making me feel that way, but there was nothing I could do. My father was friendly with their family, but that didn’t mean a damn thing. He abused you, he hurt you, and I saw it all. When I had the chance to hurt him back, I did what I had to do.”
“No, no, Danil, you didn’t do that for me, you did that for yourself.” I’m crying now, unable to help it. I’m crying for Manuel and all the lives lost after him. The war could’ve ended that day, and the destruction and pain and death that came after could’ve been avoided.
