“Good,” I say. “Then you know lying won’t save you.”
His mouth twitches, a faint smirk. “Nothing’s gonna save me anyway.”
I study him for a long moment. “Then you understand what happens next.”
I pick up the small folding knife from the table beside me. It’s nothing dramatic, just clean and efficient. The sound of the blade snapping open echoes through the room.
Cesaro shifts beside me. “We pulled his phone. Found messages from a burner. He says he doesn’t know who hired him.”
I don’t look at Cesaro. My attention stays on the man in the chair. “Who gave the order?”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to kill me. Why does it matter?”
I step closer. “You misunderstand me. Death isn’t the punishment. Death is the mercy.”
He goes still.
I crouch down in front of him, our eyes level. “You shot my daughter.”
For the first time, something flickers in his expression. “It was supposed to be the other girl,” he mutters.
“Other girl?”
“The blonde. The roommate. That’s who they wanted.”
Every muscle in my body goes still. “Elizabeth?”
He nods once. “Said she was leverage. I don’t know why.”
Leverage.
The boy isn’t finished yet. “Someone bumped into me. That’s how your daughter got hit.”
He says it so casually, like his mistake didn’t ruin my entire fucking world.
I stand slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Who sent you?”
He hesitates too long and I drive the knife into his hand. The blade sinks through his flesh, pinning him.
He screams. “I—I don’t know his name! He was Italian, but not local. Said you’d know who he worked for. Someone calledIlMacellaio.”
Cesaro exhales sharply behind me. “Son of a bitch.”
I step back, letting the words sink in.The Butcher.I haven’t heard that name in years. Not since Naples, since before Sienna was born.
“Take him apart,” I tell Cesaro quietly. “Get everything. Anyone he’s met. Every message. Every dollar that passed his hands.”
Cesaro nods once, already pulling on his black gloves.
As I turn to leave, the man in the chair calls after me. “You think killing me brings your daughter back?”
I stop in the doorway. My voice is calm, almost gentle. “No. But it’ll make sure no one forgets her.”
Then I walk out.
The sound that follows isn’t loud, but it’s final. The dull, heavy crack of something breaking, and the echo of a man’s scream swallowed by the snowstorm outside.
My world stills as I’m driven across town, back to my penthouse. But my mind—God, my mind won’t stop.
