I start to pursue, but Sophia’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Let them go,” she says, her voice shaking. “Please. You shot my brother.”
The accusation in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade. “I saved your life.”
“I know.” Tears stream down her face. “I know you did. But he’s still my brother, and I just watched you put a bullet in him.”
I pull her against my chest, one hand cradling the back of her head. She’s trembling, her tears soaking through my shirt. Around us, my men secure the warehouse, checking for remaining threats.
“Boss,” Marco calls out. “We’ve got blood trails. We can track them.”
“Do it.” I release Sophia and move to examine the scene. The blood trail leads to a service exit, drops of crimson marking Tony’s escape route. “I want him found. Alive.”
Over the next three days, we hunt.
My men scour the city, following every lead, bribing every informant. Lorenzo has gone to ground, but he can’t hide forever.
Not with Tony wounded and needing medical attention.
We find my brother in an abandoned clinic on the south side, the kind of place that asks no questions and treats gunshot wounds for cash. I breach the door with Marco and four others, weapons drawn.
Tony is in a back room, his shoulder bandaged but his face pale from blood loss.
He reaches for a gun on the table beside him, but I’m faster. My boot connects with his wrist, and the weapon skitters across the floor.
“Don’t,” I say, my Glock aimed at his head. “I don’t want to shoot you again, but I will.”
He glares at me with Sophia’s eyes, and the resemblance is so strong it makes my chest ache. “Go ahead. Kill me like you killed my father.”
“Your father tried to save my sister.” The words taste like ash. “Lorenzo lied to you about everything.”
“Bullshit.” Tony tries to stand, but Marco forces him back down. “I saw the evidence. Photos, videos, witness statements.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” My words sound harmless enough, but Tony’s a smart guy and understands the underlying meaning behind “talk.” Marco binds Tony’s wrists with a zip tie, then we go back to our vehicles and head back to the safehouse, with Tony lying face down on the backseat, a burlap sack over his head.
The safe house is a fortified apartment in a building I own under a shell corporation, one my uncle doesn’t have information about.
Sophia is waiting when we arrive, and the moment she sees Tony, she rushes to him.
“Oh god, Tony.” She touches his bandaged shoulder gently, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
Gently, but firmly, I latch on to Sophia’s arm and pull her away from her brother. She glances up at me with those defiant eyes, but I won’t budge this time.
“He’s not going to talk with you here,” I tell her as I lead her away. “I can’t have your emotions getting in the way.”
When she starts to balk, I shake my head at her. “He’s been programed, conditioned by Lorenzo. It’s going to take time todecondition him. But you will play a part, I promise. Just not right now.”
Reluctantly she leaves, casting a look back at her brother.
“All fabricated,” I say once we’ve got Tony in a back room, his arms and legs secured to a steel chair. “Lorenzo orchestrated Nicole’s rape. He framed your father to cover his own crimes. Your father was trying to expose him when I killed him.”
I show him the first photo of Vincent Moretti’s body, but from a different angle than the ones I showed Sophia.
This one shows defensive wounds on his hands, bruises that suggest he’d been fighting someone before I found him.
I’d ignored them in the past, brushing them off as a drunken fight before they came to my home.
But now I understand each mark.
