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I sped through my streets, too lost in ire to give a shit about the slick roads. I just wanted to get home and keep an eye on Katia after hanging up with Alonzo Costa. But before the call ended, I made it clear to Las Vegas how I didn’t share Mario Vitelli’s idea of progress.
Progress. The old man wanted progress. It was laughable.
There had to be something I was missing.
Something I’d overlooked.
It was unsettling, and my demon warned.
Because all Mario Vitelli was provoking was for this war to continue against my city after I would kill Borelli. And it drove me mad not seeing or understanding his end game aside from pride.
Now I would have to face him in my own home, knowing the troubles he continued to cause. Because men kept pouring, and we were starting to get hit from all angles.
Then, there was the shift I felt. The sway of power like a sound of crumbling dust falling off a pick as it slowly chipped my empire.
I pulled my car onto the deep and gravel road that led to Salvatore’s home. I had to calm down. I needed Sal’s advice and thoughts before I could lose control with the Vitelli that slept in my bed. I couldn’t share this with her.
“Sal?” I roared as I opened the front door.
All the lights inside were off. Nothing had been disturbed and an uncanny silence traveled through the house, causing a rousing alarm to settle. The dread engulfed my body as I glanced at the chair he spent most of his time in, empty and without a mug resting on its side table under the darkness.
Darkness. It shouldn’t be dark. The house should be covered with lit lamps. The low static sound of the radio he kept on through the day should be humming through the walls. Instead, it was too quiet, haunting.
“Sal?”
I picked my phone out of my pocket and shot Viktor a quick text as I walked through the silent halls.
Where’s Katia?
Viktor texted back immediately.
She was last drawing on her iPad. Feet over your desk.
She was last.
Not last. Now.
I peered into the kitchen. It was empty.
“Sal!” I yelled.
My phone vibrated against my palm.
No change.
A slither of constraint diminished in my chest, but I couldn’t shake off the worry feeling.
Don’t lose sight of her.I texted back and pocketed my phone back.
I didn’t attempt the upper floor. It always remained vacant, forgotten. Instead, my feet pushed through the hall straight to his bedroom door. I pushed the door open to the smell of disinfecting alcohol and woods, and my body froze.
“Sal?”
Immediately, I rushed to his body as he sat slumped against the side of the bed. A low whistle of air escaped from the tube far within his reach, and the oxygen tank lay sideways by the corner.
He still wore his sleepwear. Salvatore never made it out of his room this morning.
No, no, no.
