Page 16 of Silent Night With Luca

We grab our coffees and head outside. The cold bites at my face, but I barely notice. My mind’s on Fiamma.

Sal’s pacing beside me, a silent but menacing presence as we make our way down a side street, away from the crowds. We got a lead—one of Marco’s men was spotted near the market earlier this morning, probably trying to blend in with the tourists and locals. But he sticks out like a sore thumb now that we know he’s here.

Fucking bastard.

We’ve been trailing him for a few blocks, keeping our distance as he walks toward an alley just off the market. The guy has no idea we’re on him, too caught up in whatever the hell he’s doing to notice two shadows following him through the festive chaos. Probably jacked up on crank.

“Got him,” I mutter, nodding toward the alley as the thug slips inside, probably thinking he’s safe now that he’s out of the open.

Sal cracks his knuckles. “You want me to take the lead?”

“No,” I say. “I’ve got this one.”

We turn the corner quietly, the sounds of carols fading into the distance. The alley is narrow and dimly lit, lined with dumpsters and the stench of old garbage. The perfect spot for a chat.

He doesn’t even see me coming.

I grab him from behind, slamming him hard into the brick wall. He lets out a grunt, his breath knocked out of him, but I don’t give him time to recover. My fist meets his gut, and he doubles over, gasping.

Sal steps in, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him upright. “Marco’s guy, right?”

The guy tries to play dumb, shaking his head, but it’s too late for that. He knows we’ve got him. I reach into my jacket, pulling out my knife. The blade glints in the faint light as I press it against his throat, just enough to make him sweat.

“Where is she?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

He’s panicking now, his head swiveling back and forth darting between me and Sal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”

I slam him against the wall again, cutting him off, and run the tip of my knife along his high cheekbone. The blade is so sharp he probably doesn’t feel it, but I’m sure his eye catches the thick, crimson liquid that bubbles up and starts to drip down his face.

“Don’t lie to me. Fiamma Luciana. You know who she is. You know who took her. Now tell me where she is, or I’ll make this a lot worse for you. And trust me, it won’t be quick and painless.”

He struggles against my grip, his face growing pale, but he’s still holding out. “I swear, I don’t know?—”

I slice the knife down, not deep enough to kill, but enough to get his attention. He gasps, blood seeping from the cut along his collarbone. “You don’t want to make me ask again.”

The thug whimpers, his knees shaking. “Alright, alright. Marco’s got her. He’s keeping her somewhere outside town—north, in one of those cabins. The ones that line the highway. But I don’t know which one, I swear. I’m just supposed to keep an eye on things, let him know if any more activity starts down here in town.”

“You’re doing a bang up job, fuckface.”

Sal grabs him by the throat, pinning him harder against the wall. “You’re a lousy liar, you know that?”

“Please,” the thug gasps, his face white with terror. “I told you everything I know. Please don’t kill me. I’m just a watchman, that’s all.”

I look him over, disgust curling in my gut. This guy is just a pawn, a useless one at that. But we can’t let him walk away.

I wipe my knife on his shirt, cleaning off his disgusting blood and sheath it, giving him a hard look. “Alright. You’ll live. You’ll go back to Marco and tell him you never saw us.”

He nods eagerly, relief flooding his face. “Thank you. I swear, I won’t say a word?—”

Before he can finish, Sal punches him hard in the gut, doubling him over again. I step in, grabbing his head with both hands and twisting sharply. The crack echoes in the narrow alley, and he slumps to the ground, lifeless.

Sal wipes his hands on his jacket, looking down at the body with a sneer. “Should’ve known better.”

I glance back at the entrance to the alley. The faint soundsof music and laughter drift over from the town center where everyone is gathered.

Families are out there, kids laughing, completely unaware of the violence lurking just a few steps away. The town might be dressed up in holiday cheer without a care in the world, but it’s got no idea what’s happening in the shadows.

“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter, stepping over the body. “Call the fucking cleaners and get this trash up off the street. No kid needs to see this shit.”

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