Page 85 of The Pawn

“Cassian, of course not, why would I ever do that? Why would you think I did? Think I could?”

“It was you who met with Malek when he held Allegra in that cellar room. Did you know there was a window? Small, busted, something for ventilation, I guess. But there all the same. Allegra and her mother heard people when they were held there. This time, Allegra heard you, didn’t she? That’s why she got like she did because although she never saw your face, she recognized your voice.”

“You’re being fucking crazy. I’m your godfather, for Christ’s sake. I held you when your father wouldn’t look at you,” he says, eyes bright and wild. He knows what’s coming. What I have to do. But this betrayal, it hurts. It fucking hurts and I hate him for it.

“Severin’s footage, do you know what it showed? Manon a motorcycle, black helmet, completely unrecognizable. Except for one thing.” I turn to the driver. “He was whistling that tune. Exactly that tune.”

“What?” Uncle Angelo asks. I have to give it to him. He’s a great actor.

I reach into my jacket to take the Glock out of its holster. I hold it at my side, and I close my eyes as I process this pain in my chest. I don’t normally feel pain when I beat a man who deserves beating. When I kill a man who deserves killing. But right now, all I feel is pain.

“Cassian. You’re wrong. Think. For God’s sake, think.”

“Why did you betray me?” I ask, my voice low and heavy, quiet enough that only Angelo will hear it.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says.

I look up, meet his eyes, see the desperation inside them.

I turn to the driver and, in the blink of an eye, I raise my weapon and shoot him between the eyes. He drops before he even registers what’s happened.

Angelo exhales an audible breath, mouth falling open as he stumbles backward.

“Cassian,” he starts, turning to me. “Please. Think.” He’s backing away as he speaks. One of my men steps behind him and when he’s near enough, he punches him in the kidney. My uncle stumbles forward, the air knocked out of him. He drops to his hands and knees. He’s never been one for violence. Not committing it himself at least. Ordering it, well, that’s a different story.

I walk toward him, my brain going about a thousand miles an hour. He pushes himself to sit on his heels, one hand on his back, panting for breath.

“Tell me why,” I say again. “Tell me why you would betray me, Uncle.” My heart twists in my chest.

“I didn’t betray you. I swear. You are like my own son. You know this. You fucking know it.”

“Your son.” I shake my head.

“All your life long, Cassian, you’ve known me. Just think. It’s all I’m asking. Just think. One day. Two days. Please. Please.”

“Cassian!” It’s Allegra. She’s come running. They probably heard the bullet upstairs. Jet’s got her though. He’s holding her back.

I crouch down so we’re at eye level. I press the barrel of my gun to his stomach.

“Oh, God. Cassian.” His face is wet now.

“You want me to think. One day. Two.”

“Please. God. Please.”

“Okay, Uncle.” I nod. Because this can’t go too easy to for him. Like Rami, who died too soon. Who didn’t suffer enough. “Okay. I’m going to give you those two days. And you’re going to regret ever asking for them,” I say, shifting my gun to his thigh and pulling the trigger.

28

ALLEGRA

Angelo Trevino’s scream comes after a moment of near complete silence when all I can hear outside of my own breathing is the sound of the bullet having left the chamber, having torn through tissue and muscle and bone. It’s audible, that. You don’t know it until you hear it, and I’ve heard it too many times.

Angelo falls onto his side clutching his bleeding leg in agony. He’s moaning, weeping.

Enzo comes running out the front door. He stops short, looking at his father, then at Cassian.

Cassian turns to him. He wipes the blood off his jaw. He was crouched down low. It’s splattered all over him. His clothes are ruined, but he ruined them when he cut out Joseph’s tongue. His hands are bloodied. Those he’d washed. He’s breathing hard, sweat along his hairline. His jaw is set, and he looks suddenly older, as if the last half hour has aged him.