But it wouldn’t help. Holding my tongue and taking the pain, it wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t get Mal the information he needed to take revenge on my father. Holding my tongue would only soothe my wasted, worthless ego, and I couldn’t afford that. Not right now.
“I hate them,” I whispered. “I hate Carmine. I hate the Falsones. I’m glad they’re dead, Daddy. I hate Mal too. I hope you catch him.”
Dad smiled. He nodded and touched my hair.
* * *
Mal
I kicked the door open but threw myself flat against the wall.
Clem unloaded. He went apeshit. Fired every shot he had in a roar of spent bullets. I stayed flat and thought flat thoughts: ruler, paper, leaves. All that shit. I was wallpaper.
His shots slammed into the door. They whizzed down the hallway. He kept on shooting after his gun only made a worthless click. I stepped into the room. There was no blood, which meant I’d gotten lucky. Meant Clem was as dumb as I’d hoped.
“You’ve looked better,” I said, grinning.
He threw the gun at me. I ducked to the side. What a petty move.
He sat in a bed with his back propped up by pillows. His face was wrapped in bandages and he looked like a mummy or the invisible man. I could only see his eyes, and they were full of fear. He had on a sweatshirt and the blankets were pulled up to his waist.
“Mal,” he said, sounding thick and slurred. “How?”
“Wasn’t that hard.” I extended the baton. He stared at it and almost shit himself. “You never should’ve been there. You never should’ve hurt the Falsone family.”
“I didn’t,” he said, though muffled. “I didn’t, I swear, I never—”
I closed on him and smashed his kneecap to splinters. He groaned in agony, sobbing with the waves of pain.
“Lie again and this’ll be slow.”
He nodded, eyes squeezed shut, cradling his wrecked and worthless leg. “I was there. I didn’t shoot them.”
“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have gone.”
God, he was pathetic. He was a wreck of a man. Half dead and in pain. So lost in fear that he could barely breathe. He sobbed, snotted, cried. It was awful.
I took the gun from my waistband and pressed it against his head.
I pulled the trigger and erased Clem from the world in a spray of pink mist.
When it was done, I stepped back. Clem was a wreck. Body ruined and bent. It was an ugly thing. The house was destroyed. Bullets riddled the walls and hall. Downstairs, food was thrown on the floor, and a little blood trail led out into the front yard.
This was revenge. Bodies left in my wake like river stones. Twisted, bent human beings wrecked by my hands. I was all ruin and destruction.
Three down. Four to go.
* * *
Capri
Dad patted my hair and stood up. “Do you know why I took you dress shopping today?”
Because you’re a sick, twisted monster?
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re going to see Maxim again. His father reached out this morning about arranging a visit. He suggested the two of you go for dinner and a walk around town. What do you say to that?”
I nodded weakly. “If that’s what you want.”
He watched me carefully. “How do you feel about Maxim?”
“He seems nice.”
“He’s still willing to move forward with this arrangement, despite your antics that night.” Father tossed the sap to Rolando and dismissed him with a wave. Rolando got out of the room as fast as he could. “It surprised me, to be honest. I wouldn’t want to marry a woman that ran off and threw up after dancing with me.”
“It wasn’t him,” I said. “Ate something bad.”
“At any rate, he’s still willing to give you another chance. I needed to make sure you’d be acceptable to him.”
I wanted to vomit all over again. He bought me the dress so he could beat me without leaving visible marks, and so that I’d look appealing to my potential future husband.
He was a sick, twisted creature. My father was a demon. A split-tongued fiend.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing myself to sit up. Everything hurt, but I could breathe. I didn’t think there was any permanent damage. No broken bones, no wrecked ligaments. I’d have bruises, and I’d ache for a few days, but not too bad.
“Don’t thank me yet. You need to make sure Maxim wants to marry you.” Dad stared at me with a deep, black hatred. “If he doesn’t, I will lock you in this room until I find a suitor to my liking, and that might take months. Do you understand me, Capri? Your life will be hell if you fail me.”
“I will do my best, Daddy. I promise.”
“I hope so. Now get changed out of that. I’ll have it laundered and prepared for tomorrow night. Get yourself back up to your room.” He walked to the door and hesitated there. “Forget about your dead friend. Forget about Mal. He’s dead too, only he doesn’t know it yet.” Dad left and I sat back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.