Page 21 of Dreadful

I stand and lay my cane on the seat of the chair. The walk to the rolling cart of tools is short, but I still have to mask my pain with the gait I’ve formed over the years. The near-daily ache is my small penance for leaving the girl behind. I failed her, and the injury is a constant ache for vengeance.

Vinnie begins to hyperventilate the closer I get to the cart, until I pick up the blunt sharpening steel rod. An audible sigh rushes out of him, but he otherwise remains silent. It takes me removing my favorite razor from my pocket and honing it on the steel for him to realize he’s still in danger.

“I don’t know who it was, I swear,” he gasps.

My hands freeze, stopping the harsh swipes of the blade.

“I don’t believe you. But that name I can find out from someone else. There’s another name I need right now.La verità è bella. The truth is beautiful, Vincenzo, so now’s the time for your ugly ass to confess.Someoneknows the girl’s name, and I think you’re that someone. So, what was it?”

“I-I don’t remember.”

“Really?” I grind out through clenched teeth. “How convenient.”

I nod to Raze, and Vinnie yelps as he’s yanked upside down once more.

Holding the razor by the wooden handle, I drag the tip of the blade along his sweat-covered cheek. Careful not to go too deep, I use just enough pressure for blood to blossom. It slowly trails down his face and into his eyes, but the carbon steel is so sharp he doesn’t flinch.

“My father gave me this razor the day he opened the barbershop, but I’ve never used it to shave a single face. It’s been my weapon. I vowed to use it on the man who kidnapped me. As you know, my father never let me kill that man.” A red blood vessel bursts in Vinnie’s eye, a pinprick of crimson spreading over the rheumy sclera. “Instead, they made you bring in some fall guy to ‘keep the peace.’ I don’t even know what thebastardodid to deserve it. The man had been locked up for weeks, and he was already too beat up for answers. He was supposed to be my first kill, and I was supposed to use this razor to do it.”

“But you couldn’t,” Vinnie sneers, a mix of false bravado, hope, and disgust. “You’ve always been weak.”

“Hardly. I don’t blindly follow orders like you do, Vincenzo. Although I was so angry, I almost did it just to feel relief. An innocent life was lost in all of this. That girl had nothing to do with it, and no one even knew hername.” I swing the blade up, ready to slam it into his jugular.

“I d-don’t know!” Vinnie stammers. “Claudio ordered me to forget about her, so I did. I swear!”

He’s terrified, which means he truly doesn’t remember. My heart grows heavy with defeat, and I shake my head.

“You know, I actually think you’re dumb and callous enough to forget something like that. Which is unfortunate for us both.”

“Forgetting the order after you’ve completed it is how we stay alive in this world, S-Severino. What’s the saying? ‘Once a bullet leaves the gun, you never talk about it.’ The less we can tell the feds, the better. You know that, already.”

He’s right. It’s the reason why I know virtually nothing, even after all these years. I’d hoped to get answers from Vinnie, and while I’ve gotten several, they all dance around what I actually want. Anger flares through me again, but my last question wriggles in my mind.

“You’re worth nothing to me, then. Unless…”

“Unless what?” he croaks.

I pretend to think, even though this was the second part of my plan. “I have no use for you unless you can tell me how my father died. One day, his cold heart ticked along just fine. Then he had family dinner with you and Claudio. That night, he died in his sleep. Know anything about that?”

He shakes his head quickly. “I got nothing.”

“Very well, then.” I swing the blade up again—

“Aspetta!Okay! Okay! I might know something.”

I stop mid-air. Frustration and adrenaline race in my veins.

“What do you know?”

“Your…your—” Vinnie’s eyes bug out, and his breaths are labored as gravity finally has its way with him. I crouch down to his face and idly flick the razor with a fingernail so he can hear the low hum of death calling to him.

“It looks like your black heart and lungs are struggling, Vincenzo. Out with it.”

“Your f-father—” Vinnie gargles, the weight of being upside down crushing his chest.

“Sev, man, I don’t know if he can take much more.”

Raze’s assessment spurs me to pull Vinnie up by his bloody, sweat-covered collar with one hand to relieve the pressure on his lungs, but I press the razor’s edge against his carotid artery with the other. At this angle, his tears stream down his temples and land silently on the cold floor.