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So I am. I haven’t even noticed. Another cold shudder racks through me as he walks me through the building—what building I don’t even know. I’m so out of it, I barely recognize my surroundings, squinting against the lights and the stretch of hallway in front of us. Dad keeps talking.
“The Society couldn’t find any dirt on me. I was squeaky clean. But the Adams name… not so much.”
I choke on my next breath, hobbling at his side. “What do you—”
“Delphi, my father was not a good man in the traditional sense. He was a ruthless, cutthroat man who recognized sometimes he had bend the rules. Particularly, at a time when our race was maligned,regardlessof how much money we had in the bank. My father fought fire with fire and got where he did because he stepped on the backs of others. He played dirty in a lot of ways… including enlisting the help of organized crime syndicates to get ahead in the business world.”
I can only let my silence convey my shock. I never met my grandfather. He died before I was born. Everyone in the family has always pretended he was a great man…
“So I’ve been lied to,” I mutter. “Again.”
“I know what you’re thinking. But he wasn’t all bad. He sometimes had blood on his hands and he had affairs on my mother… but he had a few redeeming qualities. He donated millions to charities. He was active in the civil rights movement. He was a devoted father and ensured I had every opportunity available. He just… allowed his greed to take over at times. No one could talk sense into him. He associated more and more with crime families. Then one night, a group of men broke into my parent’s home. The official story in the media was that they were burglars who stole my mother’s fine jewelry and the other valuables they kept in the safe. My father tried to stop them, so they shot him.”
“What was therealstory?”
Loathing clenches onto Dad’s face. “The mafia killed my father. Leandro Crotone, to be exact. It is my belief their alliance fell through and my father tried to dissociate his business from the Crotone name. Leandro didn’t take that lightly, and so he had my father murdered. The men that broke into my parent’s home, they were there to kill him.”
“My grandfather was corrupt like everyone else,” I mutter. “I can’t even be surprised anymore.”
“I’m not corrupt. Why do you think I made it my mission to clean up the city? I saw what corruption did to my father. I saw what those lawless gangsters did to him.”
“And then you decided to join an elite club where people are sold like merchandise. You went to extravagant parties and drank champagne with the people who bought them,” I spit bitterly. “You fraternized with the Society that had meraped… all as you spied from the secret camera you tricked me into wearing, since I was a girl naïve enough to trust you. I see no difference between you and them.”
Dad sighs. “It was a means to keep an eye on you, Delphi. Something that was extremely crucial at the time given the danger you and our family was in. The Society has been after us for many years. I had no other choice.”
“Let me guess. You helped him. Bernstein.”
As out of it as I am, I recognize the difference in Dad’s posture. It stiffens as he steers me down the hall. I don’t need him to answer to understand what it means.
“They had you,” I croak weakly. “After you helped Bernstein. His dirt was on your hands too.”
“That’s right. They only had more dirt on me. I was associated. I had no choice but to join. The Society—it only further sinks its tethers into you from there. The threats should you not comply are constant. I was protecting our legacy and my position as district attorney, but I was also protecting your mother and you kids. They… they threatened to harm you.”
His voice chokes up, sounding gruffer to my ears.
I’m unsure what to make of any of it. The information overloads me, causing my brain to feel like it’s malfunctioning. I barely register the cool afternoon air touching my skin and the asphalt beneath my feet.
We’re outside. Dad buckles me into the passenger seat of a car.
All the while he’s been telling me more, feeding more of the truth I’ve asked for. I can’t say I’ll remember the details when I’m in a better condition. My head slips to the left, dangling limply off my shoulder, only partially listening.
“I knew then I had to do something about the Society. I had to play the game. Attend the events and socialize—seemlike I belonged. Integrate myself into a space where I was different. I had been doing so my entire life. I did it seamlessly. But I never stopped plotting. I kept an eye out for an opening. A small window that would give me what I needed.”
At some point, I fall into unconsciousness. My lids lower, and the next time they open, we’re driving on a highway and Dad’s still talking.
I’ve missed whatever he’s told me. He’s hardly noticed, his attention trained on the traffic ahead as he prattles on. My neck aches and my eyelids still feel unreasonably heavy. I press my brow into the cool glass of the car window and dizzy myself with the scenery whipping by.
Everything hurts. Everything feels so useless.
So…meaningless.
I finally understand Salvatore’s sense of indifference toward life. I should want to keep fighting, but there’s no energy left in my cold, stiff body. My heart’s died with him, and I have nothing left to give. Nothing left to motivate me or keep me going.
What’s the point?
We lost. It’s over.
“So you see, Lena was my informant,” Dad rambles. “We never had a relationship, though I allowed it to be spun that way purely to protect our mission. It worked in our favor if our interactions were dismissed as a man with his mistress rather than a DA working with an informant.”
