THIRTY-SIX
‘I don’t know the address,’ I muttered into the phone, pacing in slow, tight circles near the window.
‘Where’s Paula?’ Vinnie’s voice crackled through the line, riddled with static. I pulled the phone away and glared at the screen. Signal bars were full.
‘In the kitchen,’ I said. ‘Why? Where are you?’
A long exhale. ‘Went to check the office. It’s intact. But… I got a surprise for you, and you’re not going to be happy.’
A chill coiled low in my gut. ‘Why?’ The question sounded more like a growl.
‘You’ll see. Send me your location.’
He hung up before I could press further.
With my molars threatening to pulverise, I flicked to the messenger app and dropped the pin, watching it flip on the screen.
For a moment, I stood there, phone slack in hand, weighing whether to head over to the office myself. But the thought of leaving Paula behind – even with her firecracker relatives – made something primal in me rear its head. She might’ve been safe here. But she was mine.
Even if they were packing heat and looked like they chewed glass for breakfast.
My furry little stalker brushed up against my ankle again. I looked down at it, squinting. The thing was ridiculous. A puffball with eyes too large for its damn skull, staring up at me like it knew all my secrets.
‘What?’ I muttered. Its ears perked. ‘You got a problem with me?’
It tilted its head – once to the left, then right – as if it were trying to decode me. Then it bounced on one leg. Twice. Switched to the other.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Is there a reason you’re bullying me?’
Sighing, I crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa, hoping for five seconds of silence.
No such luck.
The demon launched itself onto my lap as if it owned the place and immediately started licking the back of my hand with wild devotion.
‘You’re disgusting,’ I muttered with a reluctant smirk, nudging the little gremlin off my lap and wiping my hand down my jeans. ‘Jesus, I feel like I’d snap you in half if I poked you with one finger. Do they even feed you?’
It stared up at me with bulbous, unblinking eyes as it flopped onto its back, exposing its preposterously pink belly.
The grin stayed.
I cursed it.
But I reached down anyway and scratched lightly with a single finger, careful not to crush the fluffer.
My gaze darted towards the hallway. Voices murmured from two doors down.
I stilled, breath shallow, tuning my ears even as shame coiled stupid in my gut. Eavesdropping on Paula felt like swallowing a bundle of barbed wire, every spine catching on guilt.
But I couldn’t stop listening. Because she was talking about him. About the weapon deals, the pain, the things he’d done to her – how she’d finally turned him in. But not before he’d broken her in ways that made my blood curdle.
Her brother asked questions – the right kind. ‘Where was I?’ and the like. But it still didn’t change the past – nor how deep it cut.
I couldn’t get my mind out of the gutter – how could they have lived with her without noticing a single thing?
The dog yelped beneath my touch. I pulled back fast.
Shit. I might’ve squeezed too hard, caught between rage and remorse I couldn’t shake loose.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered to the rat. It blinked once and resumed wagging, seemingly unfazed. ‘That’s because you’re not grown enough to get scratches from monsters like me.’
The doorbell rang.
I jerked up from the couch, adrenaline tearing through me. The rat-dog growled on the way down as it puffed up in front of the door, listening.
The clock read nearly eight – not exactly a time to visit. My heart thumped once against my ribs – hard. Vinnie, maybe. Hopefully.
As I swung the hall door open, Paula and Matteo emerged from the archway into the kitchen.
Matteo was holding a fucking hand cannon.
And my little angel held her pistol, too.
I blinked, that tiny, festering thought needling back in – the one about her family.
But goddamn, the sight of her like that… I nearly dragged her by the hair and kissed the fire right out of her. Right there in the hall.
‘It’s Vinnie,’ she said quietly as she peered through the window, the tension melting off her shoulders as she moved away from it.
I waved them off, trying – and failing – not to stare as she walked away, hips rolling like sin in that dress. My legs moved before my mind caught up, following that sway like my eyes couldn’t get enough.
At the top of the staircase, Alessio appeared – silent, strapped with a chest holster and twin Berettas like he’d stepped straight out of Sopranos.
I gave him a nod. He didn’t return it. Just watched.
And then I opened the door—
And nearly swallowed my fucking tongue.
One step away from me stood none other than Ezio.
The bastard’s eyes locked on mine like frosted glass with nothing behind them but rot. The bald patch caught the streetlamp, and made him look small and frail, every waxy angle of his face thrown into sharp relief.
And then – he smiled.
Up at me.
As if this were some friendly reunion and not a goddamn frontier.
Behind him, Vinnie stood tense, arms loose, gaze flicking between us like he was calculating trajectories.
‘He was at the office,’ he mouthed.
I didn’t breathe.
Didn’t move – because if I did, I might have torn him apart on the fucking doorstep.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I growled, the words scraping up from somewhere deep – older than memory, older than rage.
‘All good?’ Alessio called from the top of the stairs in Italian, his tone casual.
I glanced over my shoulder to see one of his hands near his holster.
‘Peachy,’ I bit out, my eyes locking back onto the ghost that had crawled out of my past and onto Paula’s uncle’s goddamn porch.
Ezio’s grin widened, rotted teeth exposed in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes – didn’t even try. Black gaps gleamed between the yellow, his gums a sick shade of wine. His breath hit me next – sour sweet, like meat turned foul in vinegar.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in, son?’
‘Son?’ I echoed, my voice fracturing in disbelief. The audacity – after everything. After what he’d done. After what he’d made me do.
‘Let’s get off the street,’ Vinnie murmured beside him, his tone clipped, eyes flicking down the road, scanning. ‘How’s Paula?’
I jerked my head towards the kitchen, shoulders tight. I didn’t trust myself to speak. My fingers twitched at my sides – half-formed fists, half-formed pain. But I stepped aside.
Ezio walked past me like it was nothing. Like I wasn’t giving off the vibe that I was five seconds from tearing into his spine.
He walked slow. Confident. One hand brushing the wall as he entered, as if he’d been the one putting the plaster there.
He nodded up at Alessio.
‘Good evening,’ he said in saccharine Italian. Paula’s uncle didn’t return it, only gave a shallow tilt of his chin before vanishing behind the staircase. Just like that. Zero trust given. No invitation returned.
I trailed Ezio to the living room, where the lights were low and the dog had disappeared – probably smarter than all of us. Or it may have sensed the soundless screams dissolving in my throat.
My heartbeat pounded behind my ears. My skin itched. Every inch of me was boiling in silence.
Hearing Vinnie’s footsteps and muffled conversation in the kitchen reminded me how thin the walls in this house were, but I suddenly didn’t care if anyone heard.
‘Who let you out?’ I asked, the words landing hard, flat.
Ezio turned with that same void in his eyes that jittered like static before a flare.
‘Out?’ he echoed, mock-offended. ‘It’s not a prison, son. It’s a hospice.’
‘I’m not your son,’ I cut him off, tasting blood and freedom.
The silence that followed wasn’t silent at all. It rang like steel splitting bone.
That sentence – that one sentence – tasted like liberation in my mouth, like the breaking of chains. Not all at once. Just the first link – the loudest one.
Ezio’s eyes hardened. The thaw of his mask gave way to brittle bone and bitterness. His mouth pinched into a thin line. No smile. No words. Just the cold drip of realisation that he no longer had purchase in me.
And that? It was all the confirmation I needed.
Ezio’s lips twitched.
‘You look good,’ he said, as if we were having small talk, as if I hadn’t just dropped a bomb. ‘Didn’t think you’d turn out half-decent after what you put me through.’
My throat closed. My pulse spiked.
‘What I put you through?’
He waved a hand dismissively. ‘You always did twist things, Cain. So sensitive. Dramatic. You’d cry if someone looked at you wrong. So like your mother.’
He took another slow step forward, his shoes whispering against the rug, eyes dragging across the room like he owned every wall.
‘I did my best to raise you right. Make a man out of you. And this is the thanks I get…’
And there it was. Memory loss my arse.
I clenched my jaw so hard my ears rang. ‘You broke everything, Ezio. Mum and me.’
He snorted. ‘Broke you? Please. You wouldn’t know what breaking is. I should have been worse, boy,’ he hissed, spittle glinting on his lips.
My heart stuttered, climbing up my throat. Suddenly I was that little boy again, and he towered over me as though he were twelve feet tall.
‘I held back. God knows I had to. You were never easy. Little delinquent who never listened.’
He pointed to his temple. ‘All that noise in your head, those tantrums – Cristo Dio, you needed discipline. Structure. I gave you that.’ He gestured with both hands, a smile drawing over his face as if presenting a gift.
The sound of my own breathing filled my ears, rough and uneven. The sour-sweet rot of his aftershave filled the space – the same scent that had haunted every nightmare.
I caught my reflection on the dark TV screen behind him – my shoulders squared, eyes big and dark. Unrecognisable.
He smiled wilder, sensing it. ‘Look at you. Still angry. Still blaming me for what you became. Does she know?’
I snapped my eyes back at him.
He circled me like a fucking hyena, as if the room wasn’t spinning enough as it were.