Page 128 of The Wrong Man

“Very touching. Are you done with your little speech?”

“Almost.” I stand up, looking down at him. “I used to be afraid of you. Terrified, actually. You were this massive presence in my life, this force of destruction that I couldn’t escape no matter how far I ran.”

I shake my head slowly.

“But sitting here now, looking at you... I’m not afraid anymore. You’re not a monster, Declan. You’re just a sad, small man who never learned how to be anything else. And I’m done letting you have any power over me.”

I turn toward the door. Then I stop, looking back over my shoulder.

“I don’t want you dead,” I say. “But I don’t care what else happens to you.”

Dante is waiting outside, just like he promised. His eyes search my face, looking for signs of damage, of distress. I give him a small, tired smile.

“I’m okay,” I say. “I think I actually am, for once.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself sink into the embrace. Let myself feel safe and held and loved.

“What do you want to do with him?” Dante asks quietly, his voice rumbling against my ear.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want him dead. But beyond that...” I shrug. “I don’t care. He’s not my problem anymore.”

Dante nods. And then he smiles, just slightly. It’s not a nice smile.

“Ginni has been asking for a practice subject. Someone to work on independently, to prove he’s ready.”

Ginni. Dante’s apprentice. The pretty, delicate-looking man who scared the crap out of me while also making me seethe with envy when I thought he might be Dante’s boy. But he’s actually Carlo’s wife, and earlier he looked at the chaos around him like it was a birthday party.

“Is that... appropriate?”

“Ginni is very enthusiastic about his work.”

As if summoned, Ginni appears at the end of the hallway. He’s dressed impeccably, in a very short baby-pink dress and thigh-high white silk stockings. His dark hair is perfectly styled, and his eyes are sparkling with undisguised glee.

“Insegnante, is it true?” he breathes, practically bouncing on his toes. “Do I get to have him?”

I look at this beautiful, delicate creature vibrating with excitement at the prospect of causing pain, and feel a genuine chill run down my spine.

He’s utterly terrifying. And he’s about to be alone with my brother.

Part of me thinks I should feel guilty about this. Should feel some lingering loyalty to the person who shares my blood, my face, my history. But when I search inside myself, I find nothing. Just a vast, peaceful emptiness where the fear used to live.

“He’s all yours,” Dante says. “Find out exactly how he got the tiara and everything he knows about where it might be now.”

Ginni actually claps his hands together. “Oh, this is the best day of my life. Well, second best. The wedding was better. But this is definitely in the top three.”

He practically skips toward the basement door, pausing only to give me a bright smile. His eyes are dark and sparkling, like a child on Christmas morning.

“Don’t worry,” he says cheerfully. “I’m going to take such good care of him.”

The door closes behind him. A moment later, I hear Declan’s voice, raised in protest, followed by Ginni’s delighted laugh. The sound is musical and sweet and absolutely bone-chilling.

I don’t feel guilty. I probably should, but I don’t. Declan made his choices. Spent his whole life hurting people, betraying people, using people up and throwing them away. Now he gets to live with the consequences.

It feels like justice. It feels like closure.

It feels like freedom.

Dante’s hand finds mine, warm and solid and real.