Page 60
When Marco replies, his voice has become colder. The man who was inside me mere minutes ago has retreated somewhere I can’t follow.
“Tomas Greco.”
The name hits instantly. I heard it in Nico’s SUV with Marco’s blood still on my hands. The traitor. The reason we nearly died in that parking garage. Marco spits the name with flat finality.
More crackling from the phone indicates that Enzo’s still giving orders.
“I understand.” Marco’s voice is quiet and controlled. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
The conversation ends, and he sets the phone back on the nightstand. For a long while, he doesn’t move.
“Tomas Greco… He’s the one, isn’t he? The one selling information to the Volkovs.”
The silence is a nod of confirmation. Marco shifts onto his elbow and leans over me. When I turn to face him, he’s already watching me.
A smile flickers across his lips.
“Tomas has worked for the Benedettis for decades.” He says this like he’s explaining to himself, not to me. “He sat at Gabi Sr.’s table, and after Gabi Jr.’s exile, he stayed with Enzo. But yes. Nico and Enzo just confirmed that he’s the one.”
His jaw tightens.
“All that time, he’s been sabotaging us. We can now move against him as we have official confirmation that he’s behind at least four ambushes on our businesses in the past two months. He’s fed information to the Volkovs, taken their money, and gotten good men killed, all while sitting at Enzo’s table. We’ve always suspected Tomas. But Enzo waited this long to move on him because he couldn’t afford to make Tomas a martyr and have him win over some of the doubting dons if we punished him without irrefutable proof.”
I swallow. “What happens now that you have the proof?”
He answers calmly. “I go home. We handle it publicly. Everyone needs to understand what happens to men who betray the family.”
Handle it. I know what that means.
He observes as I process the revelation for a long moment.
“What do you think of that, Lucia?”
That’s a question I’ve been dreading. My mouth opens and closes as he waits for an answer.
“I think…” I start and stop. What if I wish that his hands—which were, just moments ago, covered in flour and oh so tenderly taking me apart—weren’t about to end a man’s life?
“You don’t have to answer. I know what this looks like from where you’re sitting.”
“Marco—”
“No. I get it. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and a future that doesn’t include any of this.” He gestures vaguely at the opulent room, the city outside, and his whole existence. “And now you’re lying here in bed with a man who just got a phone call ordering him to kill someone else. You’re trying to figure out how you ended up here.”
That’s not fair, but it is true. Partly, anyway.
My silence goes on for too long, and he gets off the bed and grabs his pants from the floor. He grabs his shirt next, puts it on, and walks to the door.
“Pack up. We’re heading home.”
Chapter 16
Marco
The aroma of Sophia’s beeswax and citrus cleaning agent mixes in the air with the dark undertones of brutality. The irony isn’t lost on me.
Years of bleeding others—and being bled—both in and out of the ring have etched a curse into my bones. I can feel the foreshocks of violence before the event arrives.
Even that instinct isn’t needed to analyze the tense air in the Benedetti compound’s main hall. Almost everyone present knows that blood has been spilled here before. They know, too, that it will happen again before the night’s over.
