“You took out your own capo dei capi,” he splutters.
“First of four. Care to hazard a guess who’s next?”
We’re nose to nose now, staring down our past together.
“You’re out of your depth,” he hisses. “You have no friends in this city. No allies.” He stops when he sees my eyebrows lifting in contradiction. “You mean Razor’s kid?” He has the nerve to laugh. “O’Sullivan knows about him already.”
“Wrong answer. Try again.”
He pauses, trying to work out whether I’m bluffing or not.
“What happened to the poker face, Guido?” I taunt. “Too many sins weighing it down? Who pulled the trigger on my family? Was it you?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I thought so. That’s why my father’s underboss looked so shocked when you started firing at him.” Keeping my gun pressed tight to his chin, I reach for the knife strapped to my hip. “There’s just one thing I want to know before I open you up too, Guido. Why did O’Sullivan summon the Red Compass here today?”
“Can’t do that.” He shakes his head slowly like it’s a tough call. “I’m a lot of things, Frankie, but I’m not a snitch. And I wouldn’t be hanging around this bathroom trying to change my mind, not when Ada’s less than a hundred metres away with O’Sullivan’s gun pointed at her head.”
“Don’t lie to me!” I hover the tip of my knife over his heart.
“Her son’s here, too. Kirill’s keeping him trackside away from his mother, but you might recognise him if he walks on past.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, old man. Semenov forced her to have his—”
“He looks like you.”
I freeze, and he smiles, knowing his words just cut me deeper than any blade.
“Same hair. Same eyes. Same attitude that will be his undoing one day. He loves too hard as well. Such a failing of you Lastra men. It makes it easy to twist your mind to another way of thinking. To spin lies into truth about your own parentage. Semenov may have shaved his head to make him look like a Bratva boy, but his blood doesn’t lie, Frankie. It’s always there, flowing right beneath his skin.”
“Shut your mouth!”
“She gave him up to save her own life. She gifted the last part she had left of you to a sick bastard like Semenov.” He laughs loudly, as if it’s the best joke of all. “Lucky he’s only into little girls, eh?”
“I’m warning you…” I’m pressing the gun so hard into his chin it’s tilting his head sideways, but I’m the one who’s hurting the most.
Ada wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t—
“She was done waiting for you, Frankie. She sold her soul for the price of freedom. That’s why she lives alone, why she’s permitted to have her own business, her own life… You returned to London for a memory, a dead cosca, and a son who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Never!” I watch his eyes flare wide in shock, and then dull with pain as the tip of my knife sinks into the space between his ribs. “You once told me that a motherfucking storm was coming, Guido,” I say harshly as he collapses forward onto my shoulder. “You have no idea what’s about to hit London next week. Shame you won’t be around to see it.”
A low hiss escapes from his lips as he tries to claw at my face. “You can’t win this one, kid.”
“Do you know how many times Semenov swung his baseball bat at Ada’s legs?” My mind is a riot of rage and retribution as I feel his blood drench my hand.
“Frankie—”
“Twice.” With this, I twist the knife sharply, revelling in his anguished groans. “One…” I twist again. “Two…”
He has seconds to live. If that.
“I’m resurrecting my father’s cosca.” I release my knife, smiling grimly as he slides down my body to the floor, grasping for purchase from the lapels of my jacket and then clutching at air. “Viper and I will destroy the Red Compass, and I’ll have Ada and my son by my side when we do.”
There’s a gurgling wheeze of laughter from somewhere by my feet. “You, and whose army?”
Crouching down next to him, I wipe my blade clean on his navy suit as his blood spreads all around us like a red river of perdition. Once done, I reach into my pocket and pull out the business card Aiden gave me in France. Holding it up to show him, the gold scorpion motif of the Santiago Cartel dances in the overhead lights.
I watch his eyes widen in shock again. I haven’t just pulled an ace on him. I’ve pulled the whole damn deck.
“You underestimated me, Guido. You underestimated my family. And for that recklessness your time on this earth is done.”
Ignoring Viper’s warning, I press the barrel of my gun to his forehead, then squeeze the trigger.
CHAPTER 21
ADA
The shot rings out from somewhere beneath us. It’s muffled by concrete and carpet, but it’s loud enough to light a firework under the private box.
The Italians are on their feet right away with their weapons drawn, while O’Sullivan is yelling at his men to get downstairs and check it out. I watch him exchange looks with Kirill before the Russian is following them in hot pursuit, with Adrik close behind.
“Is this what you call a show of power, O’Sullivan?” taunts Mario, his associates twittering in agreement like good little sparrows. “You assured us that you had this venue secured for today’s meeting.”
A beat later, they find themselves staring down the barrel of his gun too. “Your lack of respect is starting to grate on me, and when I get irritated, my trigger finger gets irritated… A horse just broke a leg and got a bullet to the brain. That’s all.”
He's not fooling anyone. Every person in this room knows a gunshot when they hear it. Most deliver them daily, like newspapers with grim headlines.
“And where would your new trafficking deal be then, eh?” Mario waves his threat away like an unwanted dessert. “You need us, as much as we need you. The Brigăzi won’t treaty with the Irish and Russians alone. They want Italian protection. Zaccaria protection. The legacy of fear that my father instilled, which I intend to carry on. Their business is the only way to ensure the survival of the Red Compass, so I suggest you stop with the stupido insults and concentrate on bringing about a swift resolution to whatever this new trouble is.”
“Are you telling me how to run my city?”
The Italian just smirks.
“Stop feeding my bad mood with your crass attempts to undermine me, and I might go easy on the payback.” O’Sullivan’s angry gaze swings to me next, then he’s crossing the room and yanking me out of the chair. “Is this because of you, Ada?” he growls, as the tumbler resting on top of my head goes flying backwards. It hits the ground with a crash, spraying amber liquid and glass in all directions. “Is this a message from Lastra?”
I say nothing, but, for once, I’m not lowering my eyes from his, either. They’re like chips of grey ice burrowing deep into my skin, seeking out my lies and finding them unwritten. My chest rises and falls as the rest of me stands, stock-still, our faces barely a foot apart.