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Tino raised his head. “And sign your own death sentence?”
I chuckled.
“Has your father not shared the news with you?” I wiped the blade, toying with him. Tino waited for me to continue, but with his gun drawn at me, I didn’t like the odds. “Arlo?”
Arlo fired his gun, and Tino screamed. His body bent forward, his gun fell, and Tino wailed in pain, bringing his injured hand up to his chest. Blood decorated the palm-printed bedspread with red. His brown eyes sneered, and his brows crinkled together, surprised I ordered his harm.
Angered by the bullet hole in his hand, he shook his head as dread filled his gaze. “What is he doing?”
Arlo circled the room with the red can he’d picked up from the corner, and Tino’s question was answered by the strong smell of gasoline. The stinging scent I’d grown familiar with, and I knew it was a smell he knew too well.
“What I’d promised the council. Taking care of the threat in my city at any cost.”
Tino shuddered as his eyes begged. “Not this way, Moretti.”
Seeing the power stripped away from him was as fulfilling as the high I sought from risk.
To watch how a grown man regretted facing me. How his eyes apologized for ever coming into my city to hunt what was mine. Seeing the moment he understood I didn’t care about his title or ties. Tino tried to hold it all in. But the more gasoline Arlo splashed, the quicker his untouchable and strong ego crumbled.
In record time, I broke a skilled mafioso. A son of a Cosa Nostra boss. An heir to a syndicate.
In record time, I ruined him without pulling a trigger. All I did was find his weakness by learning every detail of his life.
All I did was add gasoline.
I looked down at the bloody mess he held close to him. The current of crimson that trailed down, dripping onto the floor. And past the gore, I saw his scarred-burned hands.
“You know, some said after your wife died, you grew strong. You were feared.”
Tino straightened. His slicked black hair glistened while his jaw clenched, holding onto a string of fickle force.
“But in reality, you grew weak and fearful of one thing. Fire.”
Repulsed, he kept his eyes on me.
“Too bad you couldn’t save her. At least your hands reminded you each day after your failure.”
“My father will come for you,” he spat.
“That’s what I’m hoping for.” I smiled. “Oh, and while you’re in burning pain, think of how your father could’ve saved you from the same death your late wife suffered.”
“Lucca, you need to get out now!” Viktor said in a rush through my ear.
Soon.
I slipped my knife back into my pocket and reached for my lighter instead. With my free hand, I pulled the picture he’d used to target Katia. I lit it and watched as the end burned between my fingertips.
“Moretti,” Tino gritted out.
“Katia gives you her regards.” I took a step back, Tino took one forward.
With Arlo by the door and Tino rushing closer, I lowered the glowing image.
Tino froze.
Burn, my demon wished.
I dropped it.
