Page 132 of The Beautiful Dead

Salvatore pressed on. “She spent a week here. She was so excited. A doctor came, and he confirmed she was about five months along. He did a scan…” His throat worked as he swallowed, his next words barely a whisper. “She was convinced she could reason with Federico. That you being a boy would change his perspective.”

I shook my head. “She was wrong, wasn’t she?” It wasn’t a question.

Salvatore’s expression shattered. “It changed things in ways she never expected.”

He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, his grief raw and unpolished.

“She went back with Angelo—he volunteered to go undercover with the DeMarcos. He was meant to protect her. But all he did was scheme and plot,” he choked.

“Federico kept her locked in her room the entire pregnancy,” Enzo picked up when Salvatore couldn’t. “Angelo worked to gain Federico’s trust?—”

Domino let out a cold laugh. “He did that. Always thought he was a snake.”

Enzo’s expression darkened. “To you, yes. I know everything you’ve done to him over the years, Domino.”

Domino’s eyes flashed. “Nothing the fucker didn’t deserve.”

Salvatore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Catalina had the baby, and Angelo did his job. He got Federico away long enough for her to run. But…”

My chest tightened. “You didn’t know what he’d done to her car.”

Salvatore exhaled sharply. “No. Not until it was too late.”

His voice shook. “Angelo was supposed to be with her, but Federico called, saying he’d be back in a few hours. So he changed the plan. Sent her ahead.”

Domino’s voice was ice. “So what you’re saying is I should kill him for his incompetence?”

Salvatore shot him a sharp look. “No. Angelo did what he had to do to maintain his cover.” He took a shaky breath. “He was the first to arrive at the wreckage. He called me from the scene. Confirmed what happened. My heart shattered.”

The air was suffocating. The cool breeze blowing across my face did nothing to alleviate the growing tightness in my chest.

“I asked him to bring you to me. But by the time the call ended… Federico was there.”

A single tear slipped down Salvatore’s cheek, and he didn’t bother wiping it away. “He took you. And threatened to kill anyone who revealed the truth.”

Domino’s hands were shaking. “So he killed his sister and raised me as his own for what?”

Salvatore sighed, his voice filled with regret. “I think he believed he could use you against me. That I’d give up everything to get you back.” He swallowed hard. “I had no idea what he would do to you.”

“How do you know?” Domino’s chest rose and fell heavily.

Salvatore’s voice cracked. “Domino… Angelo told me everything.”

A silence stretched between them, unspoken pain bleeding into the air.

Domino turned to me, his dark green eyes eclipsed by shadows. “I nearly killed Remi the night two of your men attacked us—just for telling me the truth.” His voice was low, rough, scraping against the heavy silence. “What he found out about the crash, with Ghost’s help… He almost lost his life, too.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—pain, regret, fury—but he buried it just as fast, locking it down beneath the cold mask he always wore. He tipped his head back, eyes slipping shut like he was trying to wrestle down the ghosts clawing at his mind. Around us, the Gallos murmured in hushed voices, letting the weight of the moment settle.

Without a word, I reached into his back pocket, pulled out his silver cigarette tin, lit one, and passed it to him. He took it automatically, like some part of him always knew I was there.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely audible.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I lit my own. Smoke curled between us, drifting in the night air, a temporary veil between the war in our minds and the one we were about to wage. My gaze flicked across the table, meeting Elio’s for a brief moment. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment—a quiet thank you for what we’d done. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips before it vanished like it had never been there at all.

The hush thickened. Alessio arrived, replenishing drinks, setting a tumbler in front of Domino and me. A plate of pastries and sandwiches landed in the center of the table, but no one moved for them except the Gallos. We didn’t have the appetite for anything but revenge.

Salvatore’s voice broke the quiet. “What else did you want to discuss, Domino?”

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