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“It’s Enzo—” I began.
My father’s posture tensed at the name. “What’d he do to you?”
“No, no, he didn’t do anything to me.” I took a deep breath. “He’s missing, Daddy.”
“And?” His features tightened, becoming smug.
“I think the Irish have him. His brother’s a piece of shit, and—”
“Giovanna!” He stopped the words spilling from my lips with the harsh snap of my name. “Stop!” He put distance between us by standing and taking a few steps back.
“No, I need your help. I can’t find him myself. I mean, I will, but I’d rather not.”
His lips tightened. The fatherly bond was tightening its grip. He wouldn’t want his only daughter to go against the Irish by herself. I was pushing him into a corner to force his hand.
“He’s not my problem, Gia.”
I turned to leave, but poison brewed beneath my tongue. I turned back to him, spitting venom. “He killed the man who put the bounty on your head. So, you’re welcome.”
My father’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead wrinkling. “Who? Who was it?”
“Fucking Moretti.”
“Ugo?” He took a faltering step toward me, as if tripped by disbelief.
“Don’t look so surprised. You should have known it was him. Enzo just did what you wouldn’t.”
I took off for the door. My mind swirled with ways I could get Enzo back without the help of anyone else, but everything seemed like it’d end with my demise. But I had to try.
“Wait!” he called out. I shook the smile off my face before I turned to face him. “He really killed Ugo?”
“Tortured him, actually.”
“Damn it.” My father groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me about the Irish,” he said with a sigh as he sat down.
* * *
Enzo
The searinghot pain of another fist ripped beneath my rib cage and weakened my legs. I kept on my feet, though not by choice. A man on either side held me up. The one to the left wore a rabbit mask, and the man on the right wore the white, smiling face of Guy Fawkes. The leader of their little group donned a Halloween mask with lit X’s over the eyes and a bright, shit-eating grin across his mouth. A black hood covered his head and concealed every possible identifying feature. I could only see his hands and the shadow of his neck.
I spit blood to the floor, and a glob of it dripped from my chin as I panted through the pain. I could take punches. I fought for fun for a good portion of my life. I was never all that good about controlling my anger, especially once I got out of Silvio’s grasp. Everyone became an enemy, and I fought enemies. Because of that, my pain tolerance was much higher than anything these fucks could dish out—as long as they didn’t use tools.
“You know, you're supposed to ask questions and give me a chance to answer during these sessions.” I spat more blood to the floor.
“There’s nothing to ask. We know what you did.”
“Then just kill me? Don’t be such pussies about it.” I stared at the grotesque red smile on his mask.
“Where’s the fun in that, Mr. Viglione?”
“This is quite the party.” A humorless laugh followed my words.
He grabbed a bat from the table, swinging it as he stepped toward me. He stopped in front of me and lifted the bat to his shoulder. “You are so fucking ballsy for someone in your particular predicament. Has your father taught you nothing? You need to learn to give up and be fucking quiet.”
“Can’t say Silvio was ever really a quiet man.”
The man swung the bat, hitting me in the gut. I doubled over, choking on the air that rushed from my lungs. Blood-tinged drool fell down my chin, but the men at my sides kept a firm grip on my arms, so I couldn’t even wipe it away. Yeah, I should have shut up, but it was better to go out while being a fucking asshole. I’d have more respect for someone who did that instead of crying and praying with their last breaths. I’d rather use mine to tell him where he could shove that fucking bat.
