Darian flashes me a furious look, easily interpreted.Shut up.
And so do Leo and Jack and Julian.
Sandro's gaze remains on Darian, his expression dark and unreadable. "Well?" Sandro asks finally, his voice cold. "Did DeLuca know about this, or not?"
"No, sir. Raffi didn't know about my secret. He's just trying to protect me."
Sandro's expression remains neutral. He turns to me, flicks a finger. "Speak."
"Of course I knew. And Darianwantedto tell you everything, but I told him to keep quiet. I—I covered it up."
"You betrayed your vows to me?" Sandro asks, no change in tone at all. But I know there's a threat under all that fake calm.
"Raffi wouldneverbetray you," Darian insists. "I'm the one who lied."
Julian gives a laugh, the sound strange in the tense silence. "We all know Raffaello would never betray the Family. Far too honorable. No, he's covering for Darian, that much is clear. And as for Darian—" He shrugs. "He's sworn no oaths to you, Don Castellani. And he protected us well beyond what any reasonable man could expect, when Clemenza made those threats against his mother." I try to interject, desperate to find a way to defend Darian from this twisted logic, but Julian silences me with a sharp command. "Enough, Raffaello. I'm afraid you've lost this play." His eyes hold mine for a moment, full of warning, and I realize that he knows the truth.
Knows and is trying to help.
Theyallknow.
Even Sandro.
When Sandro speaks next, his voice is gruff, but not angry. "I cannot continue having Darian at Redwood Manor if there's any hint he might have been involved in the killings during the parley."
Darian goes even paler, but he agrees without hesitation. "I understand. I'll leave Redwood immediately."
"Wait," I say, desperation edging my voice. "Please?—"
Julian steps in again. "Hold on," he says, his voice laced with boredom. "I have something that might change your mind, Sandro. I never meant to raise it, but I can see you mean to dosomething rash. And I simply can't live without Darian; it would be far too depressing to have to send him away."
"What is thissomething?And why the hell didn't you give it to me before now?"
"Well," Julian drawls, savoring the moment, "it's because Don Castellani disapproves of taping people within Redwood Manor." He pulls out his phone and waves it at Sandro. "I'm afraid I've misbehaved. But only a little. I forgot about the bug in Tony Clemenza's room, when you insisted I remove everything from inside the Manor. It's been sitting there all this time—but how convenient for us, yes?"
"Very convenient," Sandro says between clenched teeth. "And again, I wonder why you did not bring this to me before?"
I'm on tenterhooks. Julian has a recording of Clemenza's murder? This changeseverything.
"Because it's not all that useful," Julian says apologetically. "I mean, it's useful to clear Darian, but not for much else." He pulls out his phone, hits a few buttons, and the audio hisses to life. We hear Tony Clemenza's voice: "What are you doing here?"
A scuffle.
Cursing. Wheezing.
I know the sound of a man dying with a knife in the chest. We all do, all of us in this room—except Darian.
"That was around two a.m.—and then there's one more recording from the morning," Julian says, and hits play again.
This time, we hear a knock. A door opening. Darian's voice fills the room, clear and unwavering: "Mr. Clemenza, I've spentthe night thinking over what you said, and my answer has not changed. I must decline. I will also be informing Don Castellani of your threats." A pause. "Mr. Clemenza? Mr.—Oh, my God!"
"You see?" Julian turns it off. "It's clearly a complete shock to him, finding Clemenza dead like that. And I mean, look at him, even now—" He nods at Darian, and we all glance at him.
He looks undeniably green.
"Darianwasloyal to the Family," Julian goes on. "And he certainly had no idea I was recording in Clemenza's room. No one did."
"No," Sandro says coldly. "No one did."
