I storm downto the basement and slam my fists into the punching bag. Few people piss me off the way Luisa just did. I have damn good control over my temper. I know how to use it, where to focus it, and how to channel it into something productive—murder, covering tracks, making things happen.
Cops call me a murderer.
The people who hire me call me a hero.
They thank me for doing what they couldn’t.
I take out the trash. I clean up the streets.
Sure, not every job is about taking down rapists and child killers. Sometimes it’s some idiot drug dealer selling a bad batch.Sometimes it’s an arms dealer stepping into our territory.
We have rules.
We’re not good people because it’s not a fucking good and nice world.
Cops, lawyers, judges—they follow the letter of the law, but that same law traps them. They can’t do what’s right. They can’t always put the guy in jail. If there’s one hiccup in the case, it’s over.
Hell, I’m proof. Maybe I’d believe justice was possible in a courtroom if even one of the people I’ve killed had been held accountable. If I was going to be held accountable.
I beat the shit out of the bag until I’m afraid I’m going to pop the damn thing. My breath comes hard and fast as I glare at the door. Luisa needs a goddamn wake-up call if she still believes in the system she’s watched fail again and again.
The burner phone buzzes. The one our rat in the department gave me before dumping me here with my ankle bracelet. I pick it up and hear Matteo. “Hey.”
“What?” I demand.
“Dad’s planning a raid to get you out. Cops are going to catch bullets. What are we in for?” Matteo demands.
“Don’t bother.”
“They’re going to try to pin half the murders of the last year on you,” Matteo argues. “If they dig into you, they dig into us. We’re going to take out the Cane dude and drag Emilia back. Take out the Chang chick and anyone else we can’t buy off.”
“Matteo—”
“This is happening. How many cops they got on you?”
I rub my forehead. Jaw tight. “Do. Not. Do. This.”
“Why? You falling like Emilia did?”
My teeth grind. My gaze flicks to the staircase leading up to the main floor. I shake my head, then switch to Italian.
“No matter how the trial goes, it’ll be fine. They don’t have anything that links back to you, Luca, or Dad. Emilia’s got dirt on all of us, so leave her alone. Trust me. She’ll keep her boyfriend in line as long as we ignore her.”
“She’s family.”
I exhale sharply. “Thefamily matters more.” My voice drops, firm. “Protect it. Forget about me.”
Matteo’s quiet for a long moment. Too long.
Then, “Dad already gave the order. It’s happening in three days. We’ve already got people watching.”
His voice is final. “You’re dad’s legacy and the only one who can take over. You don’t get a choice in this.”
The line goes dead.
I exhale sharply, my grip tightening around the phone I’m not even supposed to have.
I glance at the stairs again.
