Page 12 of Madness & Mercy

His mouth twitches again, only this time, it’s a smile... I think. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“It’s supposed to be the truth.”

He hums low in his throat, like he’s trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed.

“I’ve read your file,” I say after a beat. “Or one version of it. Son of Domenico Vitale, the heir with blood on his hands and a vendetta in his chest.”

He glances over, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been busy.”

“It’s my job.”

“No,” he says slowly, “yourjobwas to deliver intel. You’re already doing more than you were paid for.”

A pause.

“Which makes me wonder… what else you’re doing.”

I shrug. “Maybe I’m just thorough.”

“Maybe you’re a fucking liar.”

He says it casually, like it’s a fact he’s already accepted. I watch the cigarette burn down between his fingers as he flicks ash out the window.

Then he flashes a wolfish grin. “But you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”

“Good to know,” I mutter. “I’ll add it to my resume.”

He laughs under his breath, like he wasn’t expecting that. Like it surprises him that I bite back.

Then the grin fades.

“You’re calm for a man who just got in a car with a known killer.”

“I’ve been in worse cars. With worse men.”

“Really?” he says, turning toward me slightly. “Worse than me?”

I lean back in the seat, my eyes on the road. “You’re not that scary, Nico.”

His gaze cuts to me—sharp, dark, and heavy.

“I could prove you wrong.”

His voice is quiet now. Almost soft. That kind of softness that means something very,verybad is about to happen.

“I could take this car off the road. Put a bullet between your eyes. Make it look like you never existed.”

I exhale slowly through my nose. “Yeah, you could. But you won’t.”

“Why not?”

I turn to him then, meet his stare head-on. “Because you’re curious. And men like you don’t kill their curiosity.”

The tension thickens between us like smoke. I feel it coil in the space, tightening, pressing. Neither of us looks away.

He breaks first, but just barely. A huff of air. The faintest shake of his head.

“Fucking psycho,” he mutters. “You talk too much.”