Page 98 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
"I believe you believe it," I reply. "But I also know when a man is repeating someone else's story."
His smile fades just slightly.
"Who told you Luca was weak?"
He shrugs again. "Doesn't matter. You'll find out soon enough."
I nod once.
"I already have."
Then I shoot him. One clean shot to the chest, just above the heart. He jerks, gasps, and slumps forward over the table, the bread knife sliding to the floor with a dull thud.
There is no scream.
Just a bubbling breath, one final exhale, and silence.
I stand there a moment, watching the blood spread.
I'm not angry.
This is not vengeance.
This is duty.
This is the price of betrayal.
I holster the gun, wipe my prints from the chair, and grab the folded paper from beneath the pistol on the table.
It's a list. Shipping docks. Time stamps.
One of them has a red line drawn beneath it.
The name beside it is blurred by grease, but I know the numbers. I know the port.
Naples.
I fold it and slide it into my coat.
Outside, the sea roars quietly, the sound swallowed by the cliffs and the distance.
I lock the door behind me and head up the stone path, the sun at my back, the city stretching before me like a mouth filled with teeth.
Giovanni is waiting by the car, leaning against it with a cigarette between his fingers. He flicks it away when he sees me.
"Done?"
"Clean."
He doesn't ask for details.
Just opens the driver's side door and gets in. I follow.
The engine rumbles to life, and we pull away, the villa shrinking in the mirror until it is nothing but stone and shadow.
"He said something interesting," I say after a long silence.
Giovanni arches a brow, eyes on the road.
