Page 71 of The Wrong Man

“Yes.” The word comes out as a wheeze. “Yes, I understand. I won’t touch him. I swear.”

I hold him there for another long moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Letting him see exactly how serious I am.

Then I step back.

Carlo sags against the wall, one hand going to his throat. He’s breathing hard, color high in his cheeks. But it’s his eyes that tell the real story. Wide. Startled. Frightened.

He’s afraid of me. Carlo Benedetti, who’s stared down rivals and survived assassination attempts and never flinched. Carlo Benedetti, capo and the Ajello heir’s right hand man. He’s afraid of me.

The confirmation should make me feel powerful. Instead it just makes me feel hollow. Even Carlo, the closest thing I have to a friend, looks at me like I’m a monster.

But then, I am a monster. I’ve always known that. It’s just that now, for the first time, the knowledge brings something other than cold acceptance.

It brings loneliness. A bone-deep ache that I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.

“Dante.” Carlo’s voice is hoarse. “What the hell is going on with you?”

I don’t answer. I can’t answer. The violence is still singing in my blood, the desperate need to protect what’s mine drowning out everything else.

“This isn’t normal.” Carlo is watching me like I’m a wild animal he’s not sure will attack again. “This isn’t you. The Dante I know doesn’t react like this. Not over a job. Not over anyone.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

The silence that follows is heavy.

Carlo straightens slowly, tugging his collar back into place. His hands are trembling slightly. I notice this with the clinical part of my brain, the part that catalogues weaknesses even when I don’t intend to exploit them.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he says finally. “Something about this situation. About him.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” His voice is stronger now, recovering some of its usual confidence. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen you do things that would give most people nightmares, and I’ve never seen you flinch. But mention taking care of one witness and you nearly kill me. That’s not nothing.”

I stare at him flatly, giving nothing away.

Carlo shakes his head slowly. “You’ve got feelings for him. That’s what this is. The innocent twin you were supposed to dispose of, and instead you’ve gone and caught feelings.”

The words hit too close to home. I keep my expression neutral through sheer force of will.

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Carlo’s smile is thin, knowing. “Because I remember a certain conversation we had not so long ago. Right here in this flat, actually, while we were planning how to get Ginni out. About how people look at you when they realize what you’re capable of. How nobody’s ever stuck around long enough to see past the monster.”

I remember that conversation too. Late night, too much whiskey, the kind of honesty that only comes when your defenses are down. I hadn’t meant to say as much as I did. I rarely do.

“This is different.”

“How?” Carlo’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “How is it different? You found someone who’s seen the worst of you. Someone who’s stuck around, even if it isn’t exactly by choice. Someone who makes you feel less alone.”

The accuracy of the assessment makes my chest tight. I want to deny it. Want to laugh it off as ridiculous speculation. But the words won’t come.

“I’m not judging you,” Carlo continues. “God knows I’m in no position to judge. You were there when I went crazy over Ginni, when I was ready to burn down the world to get him back. You helped me. You didn’t ask questions.”

“This isn’t the same.”

“Maybe not exactly. But close enough.” He pauses, straightening his cuffs with deliberate care. “I’m not going to tell anyone. About any of this. Whatever’s going on here, it’s your business.”

The relief that floods through me is almost painful in its intensity.