Page 106 of Third Degree

With the door cracked open, a dimly lit hallway stretched out before me. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting twisted shadows that seemed to mock my presence.

My heart raced, pumping adrenaline through my veins as the tension thickened with every second.

I moved like a shadow, swift and silent, mapping the twists and turns in my mind. Each creaking floorboard threatened to blow my cover, ramping up the stakes with each agonizing moment. I held my breath, the weight of the job heavy on my shoulders, but I wasn’t backing down.

Finally, I stood before the door to the study, with a faint light emanating from the crack below. Bingo.

I took a moment to gather myself, fingers instinctively brushing the concealed weapon at my side. With a slow exhale, I steeled my nerves, ready to face Angelo.

Turning the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing a room cloaked in darkness except for the light from the small lamp. The air was thick, like the weight of the past hanging heavy on my shoulders. He saw me and immediately jumped up from his seat.

“Che cazzo(What the fuck)?” Angelo exclaimed, grabbing his gun from the desk.

“I think you’ll want to put that down.”

Angelo didn’t move and didn’t release his weapon. I had moments to get out what I needed to before the bodyguards came rushing in.

“Your daughter is in the hospital.” I was matter-of-fact as I stated what I needed to, and I could see his face shift from anger to worry.

“What the hell did you do?” he seethed at me.

“I didn’t do a damn thing.” I gestured toward the chair. “Sit your ass down. You’re gonna want to hear this.”

He stood there, unmoving.

“Let’s have a civil conversation, like fucking gentlemen. No need for your goons or weapons.”

To show some goodwill, I took a seat in the chair across from the desk and placed my weapon on the table. Angelo slowly made his way to his side of the desk, but he didn’t let go of his damn gun.

“What the fuck do you want?” He kept his grip tight on the Glock as he sat down, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.

This sorry excuse for a man should be feeling weak, especially after what he did to his own daughter and everyone else at that damn club that night.

“I heard about your precious club,” he mused, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“And I heard about Carlo,” I shot back.

“You killed him,” he stated, his voice flat.

“No, it wasn’t me. My security took him out after he opened fire and wounded forty-four people,” I explained, watching for any flicker of emotion on his stoic face.

“What does this have to do with my daughter?” he asked after a moment between us. I was waiting to see if he would put the pieces together, but nothing.

“She was at the club that night. Did you know that?” I grabbed the photos of the club from my bag.

There were photos of people running and getting trampled and bullet holes in the walls throughout the club. He needed to understand that anyone at the club that night had been at risk of being hit by a stray bullet.

“Did you know that right before the shooting, she actually found Carlo’s wife, Rina, your niece?” Then I pulled the footage that showed Gianna looking toward Rina, who was wide-eyed.

“I just saw her at the funeral. She didn’t…”

He trailed off as I kept showing him photo after photo of the shock on Gianna’s face as she realized what was about to happen.

“I heard my wife’s phone conversation with her. She told her that she was staying home that night.” He looked flabbergasted.

One of his security guards came barreling through the door.

“Leave,” Angelo bit out at them.

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