It doesn't matter. I don't plan to be here long.

In. Out. Gone.

I hop over the white railing, not bothering to open the gate, and head right around to the back of the small lot, to the opposite side of the house from where the people are gathered. The back door is unlocked. I'm not surprised. Lorenzo thinks he's invincible. Untouchable. No reason to lock the doors if nobody is stupid enough to try to rob him, right?

Right.

I open the back door and walk right into the kitchen, no hesitation at all in my footsteps.

Like I said, the key is to act like you belong somewhere.

It's dark in here.

In fact, most of the house is dark.

The only light I can see is dim and shining somewhere down the hallway.

The front room.

I give a quick glance around, assessing, contemplating, before stepping over to the kitchen drawers and rifling through them, looking for something. It's pretty bare in here, and I come up short in the way of weapons, but I manage to find an old steak knife tucked in with the silverware.

Fuck it. A knife is a knife.

If it's sharp enough to cut meat, it's good enough for me.

Before I can move, the door to the kitchen swings open and someone waltzes right in. The guy is dressed in black, from head-to-toe, and he's too preoccupied with something on his phone to notice I'm here. I don't know him, but I've seen him before. I saw him get out of the car that day in the alley.

Right now, he's unarmed.

I move right toward him. By the time he senses me it's too late. He's too late. He looks up, brow furrowing, eyes squinting as he tries to make sense of what he's seeing. But it's dark, and he's slow, and I don't have time to try to negotiate and convince him to keep his mouth shut.

So I shut it for him.

"Hey—"

That's the only word he gets.

Grabbing a hold of him, I pull him around, the blade of the knife going right to his neck. I cut, hard, slicing through the skin, slitting him almost from ear to ear. He gurgles, dropping the phone, and tries to scream, but there's no way anyone can hear his cries over the music in the front room.

He drops to the floor with a thud, struggling.

I move around him, past him, and head for the hallway, my steps quiet. Benefit of not having shoes on… it's easier to sneak. But I'm not trying to go undetected. There's no point to it.

In ten seconds, they'll all know I'm here.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

I step into the hallway, and somebody's there.

Somebody's walking right toward me.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

I grip tightly to the knife, now covered in blood.

It drips from the tip, splattering on the floor.

Four.

Three.

Two.

He pauses and looks up.

Suddenly, I know there's a God.

I've doubted it, a time or two. Doubted one could exist. Doubted one would ever create someone like me. But in that one second, when those eyes meet mine, I know it… there's a God… and He just handed me the miracle I need.

Leo freezes right there in the hallway. It's like a deer in headlights. He stops and just stands there and stares. Horror fills his eyes, the rawest kind of fear. His brother might not be afraid of me, but Leo certainly is.

Good.

He should be.

I'm out of time now. I know it then.

My seconds are up.

I've only got one play here, and I have to take it.

Leo's senses kick in just as I reach the boy, snatching ahold of him. I spin him around, facing him away from me, so his back is to my chest. My left hand pins him close as I drag him right to the front room, my grip tight. He struggles, and tries to break loose, but he's not nearly strong enough. I have him subdued the second we step into the doorway.

It's weak.

Pathetic.

Karissa puts up more of a fight when we're fucking.

"Lorenzo!" Leo screeches his brother's name, his voice an octave higher than any guy's voice should be.

That gets their attention.

They react instantly. Three guys, dressed in all black, scramble for weapons. They aim at me. Fingers touch triggers. The only reason they hesitate is because of Leo. I won't think twice about using him as a shield if I have to. Maybe he's an innocent, but he's still a part of this.

A big part of this.

Casualty of war.

I don't want to have to do it, but I will.

Reaching up, I place the blade of the bloody knife against his Adam's apple.

The air is cloudy with marijuana smoke. I can smell it, feel it, as I inhale. It's not as bad as Genova's cigars, but my eyes still burn from the thick haze.

I can make out Lorenzo, though, clear as a bell. He sits across the room on a small black couch.

He's the only one who didn't reach for a gun.

He hasn't moved at all.

Silence befalls the room, except for the music pouring from the speakers.

Ten more seconds pass before Lorenzo reacts.

He sits forward, and I grip Leo tighter. The boy yelps, starting to cry, while the others seem to be struck with panic over that. The men are on their feet and yelling, throwing out threats they can't follow through with unless they plan to also kill Leo. It's chaos, and my heart races in my chest as I take it in. I'm banking on this man truly still loving his brother.

If he doesn't, I'm fucked.

"Relax, relax," Lorenzo says casually, grabbing a small remote from the table right in front of him. Pressing a button, he silences the music. "Why don't we all just take a deep breath?"

The men stay on guard, but they stop yelling. They stop threatening, but I know they'll still make good on those words. They stand there and stare, waiting for permission.

Lorenzo looks around at them before he again rests back against the couch.

Confidence.

It oozes from him.

I wonder how much of it is real.

"Ignazio, what's going on?" he asks. "What are you even doing?"

"Thought I'd pay you a visit."

"By sneaking in? Taking hostages?" He shakes his head. "If you wanted to talk about something, if you wanted to meet up, all you had to do was ask. I always make time for my friends."

"Friends," I repeat. "You keep insisting on using that word."

"Because it's true," he says, "and I always speak the truth."

A sharp, bitter laugh stabs at my chest. "Truth? You speak the truth, Lorenzo?"

"Always."

"That's funny," I say, raising my voice, that anger refusing to stay at bay. "Funny, because I remember you telling me you wouldn't harm my wife!"

His brow furrows. "Is she not all right?"

"Don't," I growl. "Don't even sit there and pretend you weren't involved. Be a man, Lorenzo. Admit it."

"Oh, I'm not denying anything." He raises a hand, a smile on his lips. A fucking smile. Does he think this is a joke? "Guilty. But you're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?"

"You are," he insists. "You should be thanking me, honestly."

"Thanking you?" I take a step closer, shoving Leo along with me. The boy whimpers, the knife pressing harder against him. Every sound he makes sends the others closer to the brink. I'm damn lucky nobody has popped a shot off accidentally. "We had a deal. You don't hurt her, and I leave your brother alone. But it's obvious you're no longer a man of your word, so I guess our deal's off, Lorenzo."