"I don't want explanations." I close the door behind us. The space is small, cramped, lit by a single bare bulb. Perfect. "I want you to understand what happens when you betray me twice in the same evening."
"I wasn't?—"
I punch him. Not hard enough to break anything, just enough to split his lip. Blood wells up immediately, and he cries out.
"Don't lie to me, Mike. I have your text messages. I know exactly who you were calling."
He's crying now, one hand pressed to his bleeding mouth. "They'll kill me if I don't cooperate?—"
"And I'll kill you if you do." I pull out my phone, show him the screen. "This is your house, Mike. Nice place. Colonial style, big backyard. Your daughter's bedroom window is the one with the pink curtains, right?"
His eyes go wide with terror. "Don't?—"
"Relax. I'm not going to hurt your family. I'm not a monster." I pocket the phone. "But I need you to understand that I could. That I have people watching them right now. That if you make one more call to the Corsettis, if you try to run, if you do anything other than exactly what I told you to do, I can reach them."
"Please, not my family?—"
"Then stop making this difficult." I lean against the door, blocking his only exit. "You had a simple choice, Mike. Give me the information and live. Instead, you tried to play both sides. That was a mistake."
"I'm sorry?—"
"Sorry doesn't help me. Sorry doesn't bring back the people you helped murder." I pull the small knife from my jacket."What does help is making an example. Sending a message that betrayal has consequences."
"Oh God—" He tries to back away, but there's nowhere to go in the cramped space.
"Hold still and this will be quick."
I grab his head, yank it to the side, and press the blade against his left ear. Not to cut it off—that would be excessive. Just enough to mark him. To leave a scar he'll carry forever as a reminder.
He screams, but the sound is muffled by the thick door and the noise of the kitchen on the other side. Blood runs hot down my fingers, and I step back to avoid getting it on my shirt.
"There," I say, wiping the blade on a towel hanging nearby. "Now everyone will know you crossed the Romano family. The Corsettis will see that scar and know you're compromised. No one will trust you. No one will help you."
Patterson is sobbing, one hand clamped over his ruined ear. "You—you?—"
"I what? I warned you? I gave you a chance?" I pocket the knife. "I did Mike. And you threw it away. So now you're going to do exactly what I told you, or I'll come back and finish the job. Do we understand each other?"
He nods frantically, unable to form words through the pain and terror.
"Good." I open the door, glance out into the hallway. Empty. "Clean yourself up. Tell your wife you had a nosebleed if she asks. Go home. And tomorrow morning, you call me with everything I asked for. Every name. Every meeting. Every dollar. You have until nine."
"But—Friday—you said?—"
"That was before you tried to betray me." I straighten my jacket, check my cuffs for blood. Clean. "Now you have until morning. And if I don't hear from you by nine-fifteen, I'll assume you've made your choice."
I leave him bleeding in the storage closet and head back through the service corridor toward the dining room. In the bathroom, I wash my hands thoroughly, examine my reflection.
Perfectly composed. Not a hair out of place.
Like I didn't just mutilate a United States Congressman to make a point.
When I return to the table, Bianca's eyes immediately lock onto mine. She knows something happened. I can see it in the way she's holding herself, the way her fingers worry that gold pendant.
"Everything all right?" Nancy asks, her voice thick from crying.
"Fine. Just business." I signal for the check. "Where's Mike?"
"He went to the restroom. Said he wasn't feeling well."
