Cosimo folded before I even had to waterboard him. He had always been weak like that.
I let him ramble, and I realized we wouldn’t be able to recover most of it. Cash disappears fast when it’s laundered through men who know how to melt paper trails: shell accounts in cities three time zones away, envelopes exchanged at docks under the cover of fog, payoffs tucked into the lining of a coat and spent the next night. By the time we could trace a line, it would fork into ten other hands and then vanish.
He swallowed, the sound wet and small in the cavernous room. “Felix… let me go. Please. I’ll make it right—just let me walk out of here. I can fix it. I can—” His voice broke on the last word, a ragged confession wrapped in desperation.
“If we kill him our family will be pissed at us,” Rocco stated, as matter of fact.
“But if it’s anaccident… well, that’s just unfortunate,” I finished, letting the last word sit between us like a verdict.
“Vincenzo, Emilio—lets run him by our warehouse and grab some meth,” I said looking my cousin in the eye. “Then we’ll ditch him in a hotel with a drugged out prostitute who can find him in the morning.”
Our family would never suspect us. Cosimo was known for partying hard and fucking any girl he could get his hands on. An “accidental overdose” would be the perfect cover-up.
As I leaned back, watching Cosimo’s face drain of color, I felt a rush of satisfaction. He looked like a cornered animal, desperate and aware of the trap closing in around him. I could almost taste the fear that radiated off him, mingling with the stale smell of the warehouse.
I savored the moment, watching the panic wash over Cosimo's face as he begged us not to do it. The power surged through me like a drug, intoxicating and warm, wrapping around me. His desperation was palpable, and I relished it.
I turned away, letting the shadows swallow my outline. My job was done, the city beyond indifferent, and the ledger still rested heavy in my hands. Cosimo’s fate was set; our message was clear. And for tonight, that was enough.
Chapter 31
Tessa
Felix's words echoed like a cracked iron bell in my mind, each syllable reverberating against the walls of my skull, filling every hollow space until I could hear nothing else.
“She’s nothing. Just some debtors brat.”
I had followed him when he made that phone call. I was so curious about the ledger; about what was going to happen next. But now, curiosity tasted bitter in my mouth.
I thought he saw me. I thought I mattered.
But standing there in the dark, my fingers gripping the doorframe hard enough to hurt, I realized I was just another notch in his belt. I was a small, meaningless victory, one he would forget as easily as he counted it.
I had been invested in this brownstone, this life, and him.
And it had all slipped away. I was nobody again—the scared, invisible girl I had been before he took me, before I thought someone might see me, before I had dared to hope I mattered.
The shadows around me deepened, curling like smoke, wrapping me in a suffocating embrace. I could barely breathe, the weight of his dismissive words pressing down on me, suffocating any remnants of my self-worth. A wave of nausea hit, sharp and unrelenting, twisting my stomach into knots. My knees nearly buckled, and I stumbled toward the bathroom, gripping the doorframe for support. The air felt thick and heavy, each step a battle against the sickening churn inside me, until finally I barely made it, leaning over the cold porcelain as my body rejected the world I had thought I could hold on to.
I needed to get out of here, away from anything that reminded me of him.
There was a window on the second floor that didn’t trigger the security alarm. I had accidentally discovered it one day when I had been cleaning and spilled a cocktail of chemicals across the floor, scrambling to mop up before anyone noticed. In the chaos, I had pressed against the window to steady myself, and the latch had given way without a sound.
I didn’t mention it to Felix, because I had never planned on leaving. If I did, that meant he would kill my father and harvest his body for organs. But I didn’t care about that anymore. Felix could rip my father apart and sell him to the highest bidder and I still wouldn’t stay.
Not after I had seen him gambling, when he should have been working to pay off his debts. All the nights I’d broken myself trying to justify him, trying to believe there was some way this nightmare could be repaid—it was all a lie.
I yanked open the closet, hands trembling, and dragged out a dusty backpack I’d found there weeks ago. My body moved before my brain could catch up. I threw on the first clothes I could grab, not caring if they matched, just needing to be covered. Essentials—snacks, water, a flashlight, anything that might keep me alive—were shoved into the backpack in a blur.The only cash I had was the change leftover from one of our grocery store trips.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I slung the bag over my shoulder and turned toward the stairwell. The window wasn’t just a weakness in the building anymore. It was my exit.
The only problem I hadn’t completely thought through was the fact it was on the second floor.
In my head it had always been a neat exit—slip through, disappear, be free. But now, standing in front of it with my backpack digging into my shoulder and my pulse roaring in my ears, the drop looked a lot farther than I remembered. Freedom was only a few feet away, but so was a broken ankle.
Then, I saw it. An old drainpipe bolted to the wall just beside the window, streaked with rust but still clinging stubbornly to the bricks. It ran all the way down to the ground, past a stack of overflowing trash bins shoved against the wall. My stomach lurched again, but this time with adrenaline instead of nausea.
I pushed the window open as far as it would go, swung my legs out, and grabbed the pipe with both hands. It groaned under my weight, bolts creaking in protest. One slow, careful slide at a time, I lowered myself down until my boots hit the lid of a trash bin with a hollow thud. The impact nearly sent me toppling, but I caught myself on the edge, heart hammering.
