"He took the worst of it," Fabio says. "The wheel went into his chest when he tried to keep the car from rolling onto Amanda's side. If he hadn't turned it, she would be the one in surgery."
Of course he did.
Luca Farro owns nothing, promises nothing, plans nothing past the job in front of him, and he used his body to keep her alive.
I will owe him for that until one of us dies.
"Stay with him," I say.
"Where are you?"
I look through the windshield.
The Basile estate sits on the hill ahead of me, stone walls lit gold against the dark. Cameras on the corners. Floodlights at the gate. Enough men inside to make Bruno's twelve-hour plan look smart.
I do not have twelve hours.
"Vale," Fabio says, sharper now. "Bruno said to wait. Tell me you're waiting."
"Tell Luca he drives like shit."
"Valentino."
I hang up.
He will understand. Fabio usually does, which has always been inconvenient.
For a few seconds, I sit there with the engine off and my hand in my jacket pocket, fingers closed around the rosary. I do not pray. I have never been good at asking God for clean hands before doing something bloody.
Amanda is behind those walls.
Enzo has her tied to a chair, or worse. Every minute I spend sitting here is another minute his men have access to her.
Bruno wanted twelve hours.
Enzo needs one bad mood.
I get out of the car.
The gravel crunches under my shoes. Good. Let them hear me. Stealth was never going to get me through that gate. Enzo wants Valentino Conti, son-killer, bounty, blood debt. So I give him exactly what he wants.
Fifty meters out, I draw my gun.
The cameras catch me raising it.
I fire once into the sky.
The shot cracks across the hill. Somewhere inside the estate, a dog starts barking.
I lift both hands. The gun hangs loose from one finger.
Seven seconds.
The gate opens.
Two men come through with rifles up, shouting in Sicilian. Young. Nervous. One of them keeps his finger too tight on the trigger.
"Easy," I say, and toss the gun into the gravel. "I'm Valentino Conti. Your boss has been looking for me."