Page 140 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
He gasps.
I step forward now, carefully, slowly, watching every line of Aria's body.
"Let me take him," I say to her. "Let me handle it."
She is shaking, her arms locked.
But she nods and steps away as I point my gun at Giovanni. "The game is over, Gio." I nod gently at Aria. "Come on. We have business to finish."
Giovanni's eyes have gone red with rage. "I?—"
"You try to run, and I'll shoot you." I let him know this coldly and quietly. "Now, walk." He's out of options, so he moves in front, with my gun stationed at his spine, shirt half untucked, his lip split.
I keep my hand clamped on the back of his neck as I march him through the corridor, past men who have served the Salvatore family for decades, their eyes wide but silent.
No one dares ask questions.
They can see the fire in my stride, the steel in my jaw.
Luca is in the eastern drawing room.
Valentina sits to the side, her long fingers resting on a cup of untouched tea.
She looks at Giovanni without surprise, but with a kind of bone-deep tiredness that only those who've lived through betrayal understand.
I look at her for a second, and she raises a hand to let me know Gabriel is safe.
She rises, gestures to Aria, and takes her away from the room.
I shove Giovanni to his knees in front of Luca, the echo of his body hitting the marble floor reverberating through the study like a warning bell.
He lets out a short, bitter laugh, but it's empty now, hollow like the schemes that brought him here.
Luca is not seated.
He stands beside the wide desk that has been the location of this family's business decisions for decades, one hand resting lightly on the wood, the other tucked into the crook of his arm.
His posture is still, but it carries the kind of power that makes men forget how to breathe.
He does not raise his voice. "Enzo," he says, without looking at me. "Tell me what you learned."
I do.
"He's not who he says he is. Giovanni isn't just a Salvatore cousin. He's Cesare Gotti's son. Illegitimate, but blood all the same. Planted here when he was barely a man, passed off as Alessandra's half-brother through her stepmother. I got it from her. Put a gun to Cristiano's knee in front of her, made her confess."
Luca listens, not like a man surprised, but like a man fitting one final piece into a puzzle he's kept locked in a drawer for too long.
When I finish, he walks toward Giovanni, his shoes silent on the stone. He doesn't stop until they're face to face. "Start talking."
Giovanni lifts his head. There's blood drying at the edge of his mouth and madness blooming in his eyes, but under it all, pride. Still.
"What do you want me to say?" he mutters, lips cracked. "That I'm sorry? That I was confused? That I had no choice?"
"No," Luca replies. His tone is measured, cool. "I want the truth. I want all of it."
Giovanni turns to me instead, his gaze burning. "You think you've won something, Enzo? You think dragging me in here on a leash means anything? You let me in. You gave me a seat at your table. You watched me talk to your son and never once asked who I really was."
I don't answer. I want to hear it all.
