Page 23 of Dreadful

“Why not?”

He lifts his phone. “Got the text while all that was going on. Apparently the client wants a Medusa tattoo.”

“A Medusa tattoo? Sounds like cool ink, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

He squirms. “The girl might want some privacy or some shit. Lots of sexual assault victims get them as a symbol of their survival.”

The skin on my calloused knuckles gleams white from squeezing my cane so hard.

“Cazzo.”

It’s all I can say. After everything the girl went through, I can’t handle the thought of an innocent being hurt, especially not like that.

“Yeah, I know. It’s heavy.” His nod is quick, and he stands straighter. “But what we just did? That’s heavy too. You know we just started a war, right?”

We both stare at the capo’s corpse, and I shake my head. “My war began when the girl died. I’m just finally entering the battlefield. This was my opening salvo. By the time Claudio finds out, I’ll either be ruling with my crown or I’ll be in the fucking ground.”

“A dead girl’s worth dying over, then?”

“I should’ve been the one that died that night. She’s not just worth my life. She’s worth everything.” I swallow and try to hide the emotion in my voice, but there’s no hope for it.

“Damn. Well, maybe doing this will help you get some sleep. You look likemerda, by the way. When was the last time you slept without nightmares?”

“Fifteen years ago,” I grumble and rub my eyes.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a reply to the text I sent on the way back from Sweet Tallie’s.

Gertrude

A play this weekend sounds lovely! I’ve been dying to see that show. I’m returning from Vegas that morning, but I think I can make it work. You’re so thoughtful!

Before we go, though… I want to apologize for the tension lately—

I shove my phone back into my pocket without bothering to read the rest. When I look up, my cousin is scarfing down cannoli. It takes a lot of calories to maintain his workout regimen, which means he eats constantly, not caring that there’s a corpse still bleeding out in front of us. He’s trained me in every fighting technique he knows, and he’s a brick wall of muscle. Where I’m built like a quarterback, tall and lean, he’s a linebacker, just as tall but wide. Despite Tallie’s height, I loomed over her. Raze’s frame would swallow her whole. My fists clench at the thought of him being anywhere near her.

“What do you know about the bakers’ granddaughter?”

“Talia?” His brow raises, and a flake of fried pastry dough falls from his mouth. Pleasure fills my chest over the fact that he doesn’t use her nickname. “Not much aside from the fact that she’ll never make cannoli as good as hernonni. Goddamn, this shit is delicious. Why do you ask?”

My fingers relax. “No reason.”

He nods and swallows the confection without chewing. If he wasn’t so preoccupied, he’d be giving me the third degree right now. Instead, all he’s got on his mind is sugar and the job at hand.

Most hate this part of wet work, but I love it. It’s soothing to dispose of my victim and know that the man I killed will never come back. That certainty is a luxury I never had with my father or the girl, and it ensures I’m free of any other ghosts.

“So, we clean this up and dump it.” He nods at the body. “Should take a day or two. Then what?”

I grab the cookie from the box, peel down the parchment paper, and take a bite off of a purple tulip petal. It’s sweet, rich, and sinful. Perfect.

“After that, Orazio, I’m going to see a show.”

Act 2

Scene 7

CURTAIN CALL

Talia