Page 125 of Enzo

Papà’s pain rippled across his face while Damiano looked between us all, wide-eyed, lost. Armani just stared at the floor.

“Let’s go,” Papà barked at my brothers. “She made her choice.”

And they left, leaving us bleeding all over again. Not from gunfire or knives.

But from the truth.

51

ENZO

The world was quiet as the sun rose, its rays peeking through the window. Penelope rested her head on my chest, finally asleep.

Until the buzzing started.

Once. Twice. A third time.

Urgent.

She stirred before I was able to silence it, her hand brushing across my chest as she reached for the phone.

“It’s your father,” she said, voice low, already alert.

I sat up and took the phone from her, my heart thudding. My father wasn’t the type to call and just chitchat. It usually meant trouble was on the horizon.

“Father?” I answered.

He didn’t waste time.

“Cassio and Nico figured out you’ve become involved with organ trafficking,” he said, his voice low, grim. “It would have helped if I knew, son.”

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Cazzo, I’m sorry you had to learn about it this way.”

“So it’s true.”

A heartbeat of silence. “Yes.”

“Dio mio, Enzo. Have you lost your goddamned mind?”

“Probably.”

“What would possess you to do something like this?”

I scratched at the three-day-old stubble on my jaw. “It’s a long story.”

I heard his deep exhale on the other end of the line, heavy and knowing.

“Let me guess. This has to do with little Amara’s death.”

“Yes.”

The word scraped out of my throat, like swallowing glass.

“I suspected as much. That was reckless, Enzo. You should have discussed it with the family and the Omertà.”

“I’m the head of the family,” I reminded him. “And it wasn’t as if there was a lot of time to go through the bullshit of hearing everyone yap.”

He scoffed softly. “I guess I raised you well because you turned out just like me.”