Page 81 of Madness & Mercy
It’s only a few steps, maybe a dozen, but it feels longer. Each breath down here is heavier, full of damp concrete and blood.
Then we stop.
He leans in close. His voice brushes my ear.
“Open them.”
I do.
Andfuck me, there he is.
Slumped in a chair bolted to the floor. His hands are fucked. Three fingers are missing, the stumps wrapped in blood-soaked gauze like that’s supposed to help now. His face is beaten toa pulp, one eye swollen shut, lips busted open. Still breathing, barely.
I stop dead in my tracks.
“What thefuck,Nico?” I hiss, stumbling back a step. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
Nico doesn’t flinch. He just turns to me, his eyes calm and steady. Like this is just another day for him.
“What?” he says, amused. “You don’t like yourgift,piccolino?”
My stomach twists.
“That’s a shame. I worked so hard to get it for you.”
“You’re fucking insane.”
“And you’re a fuckingliar,”he snaps. “So I guess that makes two of us.”
I stare at him. My pulse is a war drum in my ears. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He steps closer, and the weight of his gaze hits me like a gut punch.
“The namePaulo Bragaring any bells?”
I go still.
Everything inside me turns to ice.
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Nico’s smirk doesn’t reach his eyes. “I thought it might.”
I blink down at the man in the chair, still wheezing through blood and shattered teeth. I don’t recognize him. Not his face. Not his voice. But hisboss?
Yeah, I know him.
Another job. Another life. Another fucked-up chapter I tried to bury like everything else I’ve done.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Nico says, walking behind me. “This fucker mentioned you by name. Said his boss knew your identity. Now tell me, what would a man like that want with a guy like you?”
I force myself to breathe. “Yeah, I worked for him. I was his P.I for a few months, that’s it. It was a long time ago. I haven’t seen Braga in years.”
Nico’s jaw tightens. “Then why the hell did his guy shoot you instead of me?”
That shuts me up.
Because I don’t have an answer.
