Dangerous thinking. But I was out of options.
Guard rotation gap. Ninety seconds. That's all I had. But it was enough.
I almost slipped climbing the wall. Two days without sleep dulled my reflexes, my grip on the iron bars at least thirty percent weaker than usual. When I landed, my knee slammed into the stone, pain shooting through my teeth.
The study window wasn't locked. Carmine never locked his study window. He didn't think anyone in this world would dare touch him.
In that respect, he and Julian were remarkably alike.
I made too much noise climbing in, shoe scraping the window frame. Carmine's eyes snapped open instantly. The old man's reflexes were still terrifyingly sharp. His hand went under the couch cushion and pulled out a revolver.
He was faster than I'd estimated.
The bullet grazed my left arm, a searing pain exploding through my bicep. My shirt sleeve was soaked through with blood instantly. But my gun was already pressed to his forehead.
"Don't move, Daddy."
Carmine stared at me, his gun still smoking. His hand shook—not from fear, from rage. Sixty-seven years old and he'd missed his son's vital organs. Probably bruised his ego.
"You just broke in? You've lost it, Enzo." His voice rasped.
"You got it. I've lost it." I kicked the revolver from his hand. It skidded across the floor and hit the bookshelf. Blood dripped from my left arm onto Carmine's Persian rug.
Carmine looked at the wound on my arm, then at my face. I knew what he saw. A maniac with bloodshot eyes, covered in blood, three days without sleep, ready to devour someone.
"Enzo, Julian's already lost to you. The Don's seat is yours for the taking. Risking killing me now—that's not like you."
"Doesn't sound like a good deal," I moved the gun one inch from his forehead, but just one inch. "But I never cared about the Don'sseat. You turned me into a monster with your own hands, Carmine. You know what my greatest pleasure has been all these years? Slowly backing you and Julian into a corner, watching you squirm. I lost my humanity a long time ago. You snuffed it out yourself."
Carmine's composure finally cracked. Probably just realized how serious this was. He probably thought I still held some fantasy about him.
"I thought this game could go on much longer. But Julian crossed the line. He touched my woman, touched my child. Once that line's crossed, the game's over."
"What woman? What child?" Confusion spread across Carmine's face.
"You don't need to know." I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian's number, put it on speaker.
"What the fuck do you want in the middle of the—"
I cut off his cursing. "I've got Carmine. You have one hour to get to the manor. Clock's ticking."
Julian would come. No matter how much he hated me, Carmine was his last card. Without Carmine keeping the conservatives in line, Julian would be dead within days—and I wouldn't have to lift a finger.
I pocketed the phone and sat in the chair across from Carmine. My left arm was still bleeding. I tore a strip from my shirt and wrapped it roughly, cold sweat beading on my forehead from the pain. But I didn't care. Compared to the anxiety tearing me apart inside, the pain in my arm was nothing.
Carmine watched me bandage the wound. Long silence.
"You're using me to threaten Julian." Not a question.
"You're finally experiencing what you've done to others your whole life." I looked up at him. "Being a bargaining chip. Doesn't feel good, does it?"
The grandfather clock ticked. Blood seeped from my sleeve, pooling on the chair's armrest.
"Let him go, Enzo." Carmine finally spoke, voice much lower than before. "Even I have feelings for my two sons."
I pulled out my gun without hesitation and shot him in the left leg.
The suppressor muffled most of the sound. Carmine's body arched violently, a muffled groan forced through his clenched teeth. His hands gripped the armrest, nails digging into the leather. His face turned gray within three seconds, cold sweat beading like rain on a window.
