Page 90 of Enzo

“Mateo?” I asked, voice low, even.

Mateo didn’t respond right away. He stared at Vinnie as if he were already dead. There was nothing in his eyes. Not rage. Not sorrow. Just… nothing. Like he’d emptied himself out to make space for the kill.

“He’s not walking out of here,” Mateo said, calm as a whisper. “He’s garbage.”

Vinnie sobbed, loud and wet and desperate. He twisted against the ropes, shaking, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please—please, no—I didn’t tell anyone I found him!”

“There was someone with you that night at the garage. Who?”

“No!” Vinnie snapped. “No one.”

“He’s fucking lying, we have video.”

“It was Mitchell, I mean, he would have taken the kid, and we’d have no money, but I let him see so we had a strong negotiating point! Yeah? I didn’t tell the Drift. None of them.”

Mateo pulled his gun and pressed it to Vinnie’s temple. “How the fuck do I know you’re not lying?”

“I’m not! I’m not!”

He snapped the safety, “You have three seconds to tell me the truth!”

Vinnie had the look of a man who knew he was dead either way. “I wanted the money for myself!” he shouted. “I didn’t tell no one ‘cept Mitchell! I’m the only one who knows! The money is all yours, Boss”

“Fuck you!” Mateo snapped, but then he stepped back, and passed me the gun. I took it on instinct. It was heavy and cold. “You have five minutes to make sure, gun is mine, unmarked, untraceable. Your decision on how he dies, but I promise if you can’t do this shit, then I will.”

Rio moved in first, crouching in front of Vinnie, who had gone pale and clammy. His face was a mess of blood and panic, but that smarmy glint still clung to his expression like an oil slick on water.

“Old friend,” Vinnie pleaded. “Come on, let me go. This has gone far enough.”

Rio didn’t blink. “Answer this first, ‘old friend.’ Who else did you tell?”

Vinnie stared up at him, blood crusting around his lips. He hesitated for a beat too long. “No one. I swear. Not ‘cept Mitchell, I didn’t tell no one. Please just get me the fuck out of here.”

Rio slowly straightened to full height. He turned to me.

“He hasn’t said anything to anyone about where Robbie is,” he said, voice neutral but cold.

“Roman? Robbie… See, Rio knows me?” Vinnie crowed, as if that somehow redeemed him. “I told you. No one else knows. It’s clean. You can walk away from this.”

But I couldn’t. Not this time.

“You told the man who kept Robbie prisoner, abused him, shared his body, where he was.”

“I—”

“You brought him to our home.”

“Fuck—”

Who is Mitchell working with? There’s two others.”

“I don’t know!” Vinnie cried. My entire body locked down; every breath I took tighter than the last. Robbie—Roman—safe upstairs in bed, tangled in the blankets, trusting me to keep the monsters away. Vinnie had wanted to sell him. Hand him over to worse men than we’d ever been. He would’ve watched them hurt him and still cashed the check.

I felt the weight of the gun in my hand. Cold. Unyielding. Final.

Blood on my hands, maybe.

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