I release Pietro, moving to the table where Nico has set up the recording equipment. Red lights blink like eyes in the harsh fluorescent glare.
"Everything's ready." Nico adjusts the microphone angle. "Whatever he says, we'll have it."
Giovanni watches me check the equipment. "Planning to play this for the Commission? They won't care. Half of them bought information from me."
"Which half?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Giovanni's tongue probes his split lip. "But we're not there yet. First, let's talk about Luna."
He says her name—*Luna*. The air in the room thins. Pietro goes rigid.
"What about her?"
Giovanni's good eye finds mine. "She came to me six months ago. Walked into my restaurant like she owned it. Twelve years since you threw her away, and she looked exactly the same. That Torrino beauty."
WHAT THE FUCK?
"Luna's dead." The words come out flat, automatic.
Giovanni's laugh bubbles up through the blood in his throat. "Is that what helps you sleep at night, Lorenzo?"
My hands find the edge of the metal table, gripping until my knuckles go white.
"We had confirmation." But even as I say it, doubt creeps in like poison.
Pietro moves closer, his breathing harsh. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Giovanni shifts forward as much as the zip-ties allow. "Ask yourself this. Did anyone actually see the body? Did anyone check the dental records? Or did everyone just accept what they were told because it was convenient?"
The room tilts.
"Continue." My voice doesn't sound like mine.
"She knew things. About the family, about our operations. Things only someone on the inside would know." Giovanni leans forward as much as the restraints allow. "At first, I thought she'd been watching us. Then I realized. She never stopped watching. All those years in Europe? She was planning."
"Planning what?" Pietro demands.
"Her return. Her revenge." Giovanni's gaze slides to me.
"So you helped her." The admission burns in my throat.
"I gave her information. She gave me money. Lots of money." Giovanni shrugs, zip-ties straining.
Pietro moves toward him again. This time I don't stop him. His fist connects with Giovanni's jaw, snapping his head back.
"Let him talk." I pull Pietro back. "All of it. Every detail."
"Every detail?" Giovanni laughs. "That'll take hours."
"We have time."
I pull a chair from the corner, positioning it directly in front of him. Close enough to see every micro-expression, every tell.
"Start with Francesco's death."
"Francesco?" Giovanni's swollen eye twitches. "I know nothing about that. Luna never mentioned him."
"Then what did she want?" My voice drops to a dangerous register.
