I want to hurt him. But he’s still useful. “What’s your boss want with me? Why’s he sending me a message?”
“They’re moving on your territory. I was sent here to start laying the groundwork.”
“How?”
“Connections. Money. Weapons. That sort of thing.”
“They sent a pathetic goon like you for that?”
“I’m good at it.” A note of pride in his voice.
I hit him hard in the nose. He groans, eyes going unfocused as he snorts out a torrent of blood.
“How does this Isak think he can take out my family?”
“He’s looking for something. I don’t know what it is, but it’s important. He says it’ll change the balance of power.”
I stare, mouth going dry. My hands begin to tremble slightly, and I take a step back. My pulse hammers in my head.
He’s looking for something that’ll change the balance of power?
Just like I’ve been trying to hunt down my father’s last, most terrible secret…
But there’s no way some random Turkish gangsters know about the Black Book.
And there’s just no way in hell they know it’s missing.
“Where does your boss work from?” I ask, struggling to keep myself grounded. I’m spiraling out in all directions as the implications of this conversation slowly settle on my shoulders.
“New York. The Vural organization’s big up there. Please, I’m just a foot soldier. I’m nothing.”
He’s fucking right. He’s absolutely nothing.
The revelation about Isak’s search leaves me reeling. Without thinking, I raise the gun and pull the trigger.
Yusuf’s head snaps back in a spray of gore.
I stand in the aftermath for a long moment. The corpse stinks. A part of me knows I should’ve kept him alive, at least to use him as bait for the rest of his operation. If there’s one sick goon causing problems, there are going to be more of them.
But I can barely keep my head straight.
He’s looking for something. Just like I’ve been looking for something.
The one secret my father has been keeping for a long time. The source of the Corsetti family’s power.
The Black Book.
Everything comes back to the book.
If Isak finds it before I do?—
My entire family is dead.
I can’t let that happen.
No matter the cost.
I slumpinto the booth and lean my head back against the fake leather. The diner smells like grease and ketchup. It's strangely comforting and familiar. I haven't been here in a couple weeks, but coming back feels like stepping into my childhood home.
