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But he isn’t just any other man. He’s the fucker who paid for Giulio’s kidney.
My phone rings for the hundredth time, but again, I ignore it.
After Harlan buys something to eat in the cafeteria, he takes a seat at one of the open tables.
Figuring he’ll be here for at least fifteen minutes, I turn around and head to the hospital room Davies’ daughter is in.
Unlike Angelo, Franco, and Dario, I don’t have a problem with killing a woman. But I’m not as bad as Damiano, who won’t hesitate to wipe out an entire family.
For the past ten hours, I’ve tried to process Giulio’s death while trying to figure out how I’m going to approach this shit show.
If I wipe out the Davies family, I won’t get to the fuckers who are peddling organs in New York. That’s my priority right now.
Nearing the room, my fingers curl into fists, and no matter what I do, I can’t brace myself enough when I walk inside. The lights are dimmed, and the moment my eyes land on the redhead lying on the bed, the pain is excruciating.
A part of Giulio is still alive.
Slowly, I move closer until I stare down at the woman’s sleeping face. For a split second, I realize she’s beautiful even though she’s thin as fuck.
Her hair is on the lighter side and more ginger than red.
The moment passes, and my eyes narrow on her.
You’re the reason my brother was killed.
Her breathing changes and her eyelids flutter open. The most striking blue irises are revealed, but it’s clear she’s out of it as she tries to focus on me.
My voice is soft but filled with a world of rage as I say, “The kidney belongs to me.”
A frown forms on her forehead as she mumbles, “Huh?” Already passing out again, a soft smile tips her lips up as she whispers, “Thank you.”
I watch as she falls back to sleep, and pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open the camera and take a photo.
“Don’t get too attached to the kidney,” I growl before I turn around and walk away.
Heading down the hallway, my eyes land on Harlan Davies as he comes from the opposite direction. He glances at me, and a second later, his eyes widen with recognition.
I’m not surprised.
Most of the rich fuckers in New York know about the Cosa Nostra because we have our fingers in every fucking slice of pie.
He tips his head, but I don’t bother acknowledging the greeting. Right now, it’s taking all my strength not to kill the fucker in this hallway.
I can’t lose my shit. I have to focus on finding every single person involved with Giulio’s death.
Leaving the hospital, I climb into the Bentley and steer the vehicle toward Dario’s place.
Usually, I’d go to Franco, but I really can’t handle crying babies right now.
My phone vibrates again, and pulling it out of my pocket, I answer, “What!?”
“Where are you?” Vincenzo asks, his tone tense as fuck.
“On my way to Dario’s place.”
“We’ll meet you there.”
The call ends, and I toss the device on the passenger seat. Driving through the busy streets, the horror of seeing Guilio on the operation table rips my soul to shreds.
