Page 117 of From Rome, With Hate

My eyes drop to the snake tattooed up his arm. I glance up from it to stare him in the eye.

“Who do you work for?”

He refuses to answer me, simply keeping his mouth pressed tightly together. His nostrils flare as he pumps out heavy breaths through his nose. His pulse is racing and the delicious look of fear fills his eyes.

Good.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time before Lachlan acts on my orders.”

Lachlan frees his blade from his back pocket, snatching up the man’s index finger. He bends it backward, causing the man to cry out in pain. Lachlan presses the tip of his blade to his fingernail.

“Now, here’s your last chance,” I drawl. “Who do you work for?”

“Fucking Irish,” the man grits between clenched teeth. “Entitled fucking pricks.”

I click my tongue in disapproval. “Wrong answer, Elia.”

His eyes widen when he realizes I already know who he is. Elia tries to jerk his arm away from my men, but he’s unsuccessful. Lachlan drives the tip of his blade under Elia’s nail. He cries out, screaming as Lachlan drives it farther. When he’s removed his nail completely, I try again.

“Okay, let’s cut the bullshit.” I tilt my head, clasping my hands behind my back. “I know you and your brother were sent to kill my cousin and her husband. And while I fully intend on exacting my revenge for that mission, your brother took someone from me.” I grab Elia’s jaw, forcing his head back, pinching his cheeks as hard as I can. “Either you tell me who it is you work for, or you’ll have no fingernails left by the time I kill you.”

“Fuck.” Elia vibrates with panic.

Lachlan inches closer, bringing his blade to his middle finger. He digs it under his nail, slowly driving it deeper.

“Okay, okay, okay!” he shouts. “I’ll tell you.”

I snort, scoffing at his weakness. This wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

Lachlan backs off slightly, but my men keep their hold on his arm.

“You work for the Italians. But who?” I ask.

“Francesco Ferrari,” he blurts out.

I eye him skeptically, waiting to see if he’s telling the truth. From what I can tell, he is. Losing your fingernails will do that.

Francesco Ferrari is head of the Italian mafia based in Rome. As far as I know, he’s never operated in the states, apart from having a few associates here in New York City.

“Francesco said someone called in a favor, so he sent us—me and my brother Enzo,” Elia continues. “If my brother killed someone important to you, he wasn’t part of the mission.”

“No, he wasn’t.” My skin grows cold, thinking of Tobias. “But foolish choices call for extreme payment.”

“Enzo’s death wasn’t enough?”

“No,” I answer quickly. “Does Francesco have any brothers or sisters?”

His lips part as he thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure, he might have a sister, but if he does, he’s only mentioned her maybe once. He doesn’t talk about his personal life often.”

“Huh.” I twist my tongue against my cheek, intrigued by this new bit of information.

“What are you going to do?” he asks fearfully. He trades glances between Lachlan and me.

“Oh.” I smile, pulling him back to me. “I’m going to take what Francesco took from me.”

“What did he take?”

“My brother,” I answer. “Tobias.”