Six

Francesco’s voice still echoed through the dining room. The bastard had finally spoken up, and in a room like this.

The nerve of him! Maybe I wasn’t threatening enough; maybe I was beginning to lose my touch. Otherwise, he would’ve taken my warnings seriously.

No one spoke a word. No one moved. You could hear a pin drop. The air was thick with the kind of silence that comes right before something shatters.

My hand rested on the grip of my gun under the table, loose but ready. My eyes were on Marco.

Waiting for a sign. The odds were tipped against us, but I would die before I...