"He's the mole," I say, twisting the blade slightly. Victorio hisses through clenched teeth. "Marco Fabrizi met with Alexei Ivanov tonight and reported that meeting to Victorio.” I shouldn’t have to repeat myself. Not with my brothers.
Alessandro steps into my peripheral vision. "And now you're—what? Taking matters into your own hands?"
"We don't even know if he's guilty,” Adriano adds.
I laugh even though I’m pissed. “You charged me with finding the mole and now that I have, you’re questioning me?”
Victorio's eyes flick between us, and I know he sees the fissures between us. "This is insane. I was debriefing Marco about?—"
The blade sinks deeper. His words dissolve into a strangled scream.
"Stop!" Adriano grabs my shoulder. "This isn't how to handle this."
I shake him off, fury coursing through me. "This is exactly how we handle traitors. Or have you forgotten?"
“We should discuss?—”
I turn the full force of my rage on them. "You should be dead, especially if this is how you pussyfoot around traitors. Howmany more Dantes have to die before you find your balls and do what needs to be done?”
Alessandro’s expression turns lethal.
I nod, glad to see he can at least look like a Don. “Yes, that’s what you need, but it should be directed at this asshole who killed our father and nearly killed you.”
"Listen to your brothers, Luca. This isn't you." The familiarity in Victorio’s tone snaps what little restraint I have left. I slam the knife down, impaling his hand to the chair arm. His scream is primal.
I wait for Alessandro to do whatever he’s going to do.
Before he can, Victorio blurts out, "Fine! I've been feeding them information for years! Since before the old man died!"
Alessandro steps back as if physically struck.
"Why?" I demand, twisting the blade. "After everything my family did for you?"
"Because your father was a relic!" Blood drips from his hand. "The Bratva offered me a future. A way into something bigger than this family's petty squabbles."
Adriano's face turns to stone. "The wine at dinner?—”
Victorio spits, eyes wild now. "If your idiot uncle hadn’t been so stupid, Alessandro would be rotting in the ground with your father."
The room goes silent. I look at my brothers' faces, finally showing the same fury I feel.
"He was like a brother to me," I say, the knife remaining embedded in Victorio’s hand. "More than either of you ever were."
That’s what’s so fucked up about all this.
When Alessandro and my father cast me out, when Adriano stood by and watched it happen, Victorio was the one who slipped me cash.
Who secretly called to check that I'd landed on my feet.
Who sent word about Dante business long after I should have stopped caring.
Or so I thought.
"Every call, every piece of intel…" I stare into Victorio's eyes, searching for some remnant of the friend who once took a beating meant for me. "It was all just to keep tabs on me, wasn't it? To make sure I stayed away?"
For the first time, I see pain in Victorio’s eyes that isn’t physical. “If you’d come back, this wouldn’t be happening. You should be the Don, and everyone knows it.” He glances at Alessandro. “Even Lorenzo knew it.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” I twist the knife again. “Don’t put this on me. You’re a fucking traitor to all of us.”
