Page 43 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“No!” I scream as Adrian throws him to the floor. “No. No. No!”

I slap Enzo’s face desperately, but he doesn’t respond. My heart stills.

“You bastard! We have to get him a doctor. Now!”

Adrian says nothing. His jaw locks tight as he glances at both of us, then he runs a hand through his hair and storms out.

Shit!

I run downstairs, screaming for help, but there’s nobody. Just bodies… all scattered lifelessly on the floor like rag dolls.

They’re all dead.

Chapter fourteen

Adriano

I couldn’t stand the sight of her on her knees.

I’ve rehearsed Enzo Marcini’s death countless times in my head. He’d be on his fucking knees before me, defeat registered in his eyes while I stood over him, a gun pointed to his head before blowing his brains out.

She was never in the picture. She shouldn’t even have been there.

I swirl the liquor in my glass, unable to pour it down my mouth because the last few drops have tasted like ash mixed with water.

I should have ended him, maybe. But the fact that there were more people involved in the story changes everything. Father kept the association and its ordeal a secret, even from me. And if Enzo is telling the truth, whoever is behind all this was powerful enough to make it all disappear—so much so that no matter how hard I searched, I just couldn’t see anything beyond the Rossi Mafia killing my family.

A secret association with Dean and Valente. This Caughn personality. The ex-commissioner.

Something’s terribly wrong, and I swear to God I’ll find every single one of them and take my revenge.

My mind replays the events of yesterday. As I walked out that door, I didn’t feel the satisfaction I’ve always craved. Partly because now there are too many loose ends for me to tie, and…

I can’t believe I was starting to think you’re a good person. I was starting to trust you… to think there’s a human somewhere beneath that cold façade. I was dead wrong. You’re nothing but a monster.”

Please, Adrian, you’ll…you’ll kill him. He’s the only man who ever cared about me. Please.

I planned to use her… to fuck her and leave her a broken mess. Maybe even kill her. But as she cried and begged for Enzo to be saved, I felt a strange emotion: guilt.

Fuck!

I run a hand through my hair, tugging fiercely. I’ve killed men, done vile things, and not once have I felt guilty. I certainly won’t start now.

Finally taking a swig of the whiskey, I welcome the burn as it sears down my throat. The only thing I feel right now is revenge, and I’ll chase it with my last breath.

While Lorenzo and a large number of the other Rossi men were on the front lines with the Irish, the loyal army I’ve gathered over the years marched into the Rossi mansion and slaughtered the skeleton crew. I lost some men, but we did win the battle.

Enzo’s now lost men, connections, deals, and soon, he’ll sustain a great financial hit.

We still have nothing on Silvio except that he’s a ghost. Fuck, we still don’t even know if he’s the consigliere we’re looking for, but he’s the strongest lead we have. Dean was exclusive with him. He’s been a ghost so far. And getting to him seems like trouble. He must be the one. And if he is, the Rossis will be done for good.

My mind shifts to Don Valente, and a wave of anger courses through me.

My father was many things—powerful, ruthless—but he was never a snitch… or a coward. If he wanted out, it’s because he saw something dangerous. But even then, he wouldn’t have ratted them out.

And that leads me to my next question. What did my father find out that made him tap out of such a lucrative association? Did Dean and Valente know more than my father? Was there something greater at stake? Or was this a case of pure betrayal? And finally, who the fuck is Victor Caughn?

An angry breath leaves my lips. Only one way to find out. Time to pay Don Valente a special visit.