“Teach me.”
He considered this.“We tell no one.Your place will be close to the car and behind the men we trust.”
I wanted freedom; I had not expected to find it in the form of a rulebook written by a man who knew how to kill.“I promise.”
When I left the study, I walked past the gallery where the photograph still rested on the console, bizarre and deliberate.My fingers hovered over the frame and then I let my hand fall away.
If this world had taught me anything, it was how to make a liability into leverage.
35
ENRICO
Marco drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near his weapon.Andre sat behind him, wordless as always, his gaze a thin blade in the rearview mirror.
Via del Leone appeared like a ghost.At the far end of the lane stood what used to be a warehouse, my father’s first.How many warehouses did my father have?Now, it waited for me.
Marco killed the headlights.“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said, stepping out into the cold.“And I’m sure Dante wants me to find it empty.”
He scanned the rooftops.We entered through the side door.Someone had been here recently.There was no dust—just a long table set beneath a hanging lightbulb.
On the table, a single candle, half melted.A bottle of my father’s favorite wine.And a note, folded with deliberate care.
Marco’s breath caught.“He’s playing with you.”
“That’s the point.”I reached for the note, hesitating just long enough for Andre to scan for triggers or wires.Nothing.Dante wasn’t a bomber.
I brought the truth.
—D
Beneath it,a photograph.
Two men.My father on the left.A man beside him—broader, a darker suit, a matching ring glinting on his hand.Giovanni Gallo.
They were seated at this same table, younger, laughing, glasses raised in what could only be called friendship.The photo was dated1985.Two years before the supposedbetrayal.Two years before my father put a bullet in Giovanni’s skull—or so the story had always gone.I stared at the image until it blurred.My father’s eyes in the picture had the same calm I’d seen the night he taught me how to pull a trigger.
Marco leaned in.“That’s Gallo?”
“The man he claimed betrayed him.”
“So father lied.”
Andre’s voice came from the dark.“He wants you to question everything.”
I pressed it to my ear without speaking.
“Did you enjoy it?”
I closed my eyes, because I recognized that voice.“Dante.”
He laughed.“So you know.I was worried you might think I was another ghost.Though I suppose, in your family, ghosts dine better than the living.”
“What do you want?”
“What every heir wants.Inheritance.Only I prefer to collect mine personally.”
