Page 133 of The Beautiful Dead

“I want your help taking down Federico.” Domino’s smirk was as sharp as a blade.

Diego, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. “You think we’re just going to join forces with you?”

Domino tilted his head, a predator studying his prey. “I think you want him dead just as much as I do.”

The air tightened, tension coiling between us like a live wire. The Gallos sat still, unreadable, their expressions betraying nothing. But I knew—deep down, they were considering it. They all had their reasons.

Salvatore sighed, rubbing his temple before turning his gaze to me. “Remi.”

At once, every eye landed on me. I shifted, the weight of their attention pressing against my skin. I was used to being in the background, unseen, unnoticed. I was the ghost lurking in the shadows, the one who gathered information, who dismantled enemies from the inside out. But not tonight.

I leaned forward, setting a folder on the table with a deliberate motion. “This is what we have so far.” I flipped it open, revealing a roadmap to war—documents, surveillance reports, photographs of Federico’s crumbling empire.

“With or without you, we’re taking him down,” I said, voice smooth, controlled. “Federico has lost more than half his men. He’s backed into a corner, and that makes him desperate. He’s not going to roll over.”

I glanced at Domino before continuing.

“We’ve drained his accounts. His businesses are either collapsing or buried under legal red tape. We’ve cut off his allies, flipped his business partners. His clubs, his casinos, his construction sites—they’re shutting down, one by one. His men?” A dark smile played on my lips. “They’re running. And we’re hunting them down.”

The Gallos listened, silent. We’d already made our move. The only question was whether they’d stand with us or against us.

Domino took over, his voice steady, deliberate. He laid out the next steps, the weak points we’d identified, the places Federico would try to hold. His mercenaries inflated his numbers, but they had no loyalty. They fought for money, not for him.

“If anyone captures Federico,” Domino said, his voice like steel, “he’s ours. If anyone takes his life, even by accident—we take theirs.”

A beat of silence.

Salvatore exhaled slowly and leaned back. His gaze moved over his sons—Enzo, Luca, Diego, Elio—measuring them. Weighing their unspoken decision.

“Well,” he said finally, voice laced with something dark and final. “If everyone agrees, we’re in.” His eyes glinted with cold fury. “It’s high time I made him hurt the same way he hurt me.”

The war had already begun. Now, it was just a matter of how long Federico could run before we caught him.

CHAPTER 25

REMI

The haunting melody of Sleep Token’sAlkalinedrifted through the hidden speakers in my art room, winding through the space like ghosts whispering in the dark. Outside, rain lashed against the window, drowning the world in shifting gray, smearing the city into something unreal.

Before me, the canvas took shape—shadows stretched into something almost human, something half-alive. A dismembered body hung suspended in barbed wire, flesh torn, bone gleaming through raw muscle. The metal coils bit deep, twisting in a brutal embrace, a perfect contradiction of life and death. A moment stretched between agony and peace. Between the past and the future, stitched together in suffering.

Barbed wire had become my recent obsession. It had taken root in my mind since our day at Salvatore’s house. Mansion. Compound. Whatever it was. The imagery consumed me, dug into my skin like a thorn I couldn’t pull free. I had to understand it—tofeelit. To know its power. Domino had gotten me some when I asked. When Ineededit.

And Ihadfelt it.

That night in his playroom, with one of Federico’s men strung up before me, thinking he could get the jump on me. The idiot never stood a chance.

I dragged the barbs over his skin, felt them split flesh from muscle, watched the thin red lines blossom into rivers. I had stripped off my hoodie and shoes before I began—I needed to feelconnected. I needed toseethe moment he realized he belonged to me. The moment the fight drained from his body, his struggles slowed, his gurgling breaths turned shallow, and the light in his eyes dimmed to nothing.

I had never felt more alive. Reborn.

The memory lingered as I added another stroke of deep red to the canvas, dragging my brush in long, fluid motions. I stepped back, tilting my head, studying it. Beautiful.Perfect.The essence of suffering is captured, preserved in oil and shadow.

A vibration in my pocket pulled me from my trance. My fingers, still smudged with paint, dug out my phone. The screen glowed.

Arti

Hey kid, long time no see.

---