I turn my head. “What?”
“You’re asking whether there’s a way to make justice clean.”
I look back at the dark garden. “No.”
“There isn’t a way.”
“I know.”
“You’re asking, anyway.”
“Yes.”
She folds her hands in her lap. “The don gave you the file.”
“Don’t call him that right now.”
“Alessandro gave you the file,” she corrects.
“He gave it too late,” I say.
“Yes.”
“He gave it because Dante is dangerous to me now.”
“Yes.”
“And because of the twins.”
“Yes.”
“And because he finally decided his son was less worth protecting than what comes after.”
Teresa says nothing.
I look at her. “No yes?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I think he decided before the twins.”
I laugh once. “No.”
She doesn’t argue. She simply lets the statement stand, remaining irritatingly calm.
“You think he protected me out of something noble?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I think he gave you rope because he couldn’t stop watching what you would build with it.”
“That’s not better.”
“No.”
