Gio shakes his head. “You’re a fucking cockroach, Leo.”
I point the end of my knife at him. “Remind me never to trust your people-reading skills, Fusco.Ever.”
On the final word, I slam the knife down without looking. It goes straight through the gag and into Leo’s skull.
The small amount of light left in his eyes fades quickly.
Gio’s brows lower. “That was probably the kindest thing for him.”
“And yet, still extremely satisfying.”
I take his offered hand, standing and brushing the dirt off my knees before I sink my blade into the ground to help wipe off the Leo juice. “Take a photo and send it to Rocco.”
31 - Caterina
My apartment hasn’t changed. My things are exactly where I left them, my robe tossed over the chair.
Nothing is out of place. But I turn, my eyes narrowing. “Who’s been staying here?”
“Me.” Gio tilts his head in curiosity, and a hint of wariness. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s far too clean, for one.” I head into my bedroom, my head turning. “I need to get ready.”
“Dom said he got hold of everyone.” He follows me in.
I blow out a breath. “Some will join because they want to. Others will because they don’t want to miss out. And others will report straight back to Matteo.”
“Assuming he’s alive.” Gio takes a seat on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“He is.” My voice is grim. “Talking of cockroaches. My knife wasn’t at the right angle to get his heart.”
But he’s injured, at least.
I disappear into the shower, sinking into the familiarity of my own things. My own shampoo. My own hairbrush.
When I walk out forty minutes later, I pause in my doorway. “Well. This is cozy.”
Luc glances up. “Come and eat. We have time.”
The others are seated around my table. And the familiar sight creates a suspicious prickle at the back of my throat. I glance at Stefan with a smile.
He fits here. All of them fit here. How strange that they once seemed so out of place. Several cold beers are scattered across the table, and Luc nods to the chilled bottle of white. “Pour us both one?”
I press my lips to his shoulder as I glance over. “Lucia taught you very well.”
“She did.” He piles the carbonara into a bowl. “This was a quick one, though.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
He nods, his warmth soaking into me. “I did. Dante did, too. Do you want to call?”
My chest constricts. “No. Not if everything is fine.”
He sets the pan down, turns to face me. “Little crow.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “It’s not that. I don’t… I’ll be distracted. Later, maybe. After the call.”
He studies me. “Fair enough.”
