Page 109 of Enzo
I reached for my cigarette and slowly lit it up, then inhaled deeply before watching it cloud the air between us.
“Apology accepted.” Not really, but whatever. “Now, how long have you been working with Atticus?” Silence. “The next time I have to repeat myself, I’ll be doing so with a bullet in one of your joints. Or maybe a hand, like the one holding that scalpel.”
“Years.”
“That long, huh?” I took a drag of my cigarette. My wife was right, it was a disgusting habit, but at this moment, it was the only thing calming me. And I needed to remain calm to get my answers. “How many people have you saved?”
“Thousands.”
“I meanreallysaved, Dr. Gvozden,” I gritted, although judging by his expression, he was still confused. “The sick shouldn’t pay to get the organs they need. Why didn’t you help Amara?”
“I… He… She…”
It was Dr. Milan who answered: “It was impossible to find a match.”
No, not impossible. Hard, yes. Impossible, no.
“Her sister, she was a match. But Mr. Popov said he’d kill her if we used her liver.” Dr. Milan’s voice shook.
“You fool,” Dr. Gvozden hissed, glaring at him.
“I’m not about to lose my hand,” the guy muttered, but I could barely hear their bickering from the fury buzzing in my ears. I felt sick, like my insides had been reduced to ash.
Her death could have been prevented. She had a fighting chance, and they took it from her. An innocent child who hadnothingto do with our world.
Something inside me snapped, but it didn’t break. Instead, it reforged into resolution. I would keep my promise.
Amara was gone. I couldn’t bring her back.
But I could avenge her. I could ensure no other child suffered the same fate.
I steeled my spine.
“Atticus instructed you not to help the DiMauros, did he?” Both doctors gulped, then proceeded to nod like those damned bobbleheads tacky people put on the dashboard of their car. “I wonder why?”
Of course, I knew why, but I wanted to hear it from these two scumbags.
“Mr. DiMauro set one of Atticus’s establishments on fire on the other side of the island.” Dr. Gvozden finally decided to tell the truth. “With his mistress inside.”
Again, all information I’d already uncovered. Luca hadn’t known that the man’s mistress was inside when he acted. Not that I had much sympathy; any person—woman or not—who could stomach being in the same room where human bodies were being butchered welcomed their fate.
“He w-was fond of that one,” Dr. Milan stuttered. “The mistress, that is.”
“Funny, because I’m fond of my—” I stopped myself, the mistake making my chest hurt. I squashed that pain and replaced it with rage. “Iwasfond of my sister-in-law.”
The room thickened with silence, laced in blood. Eyes darted around, but the weight of my words seemed louder than a gunshot.
Somewhere, a clock ticked. A metaphor, perhaps, for their final moments.
I tilted my head at the butchered man. “Who is he?”
“Nobody important,” Dr. Gvozden seethed. “A junkie.”
“Really?” The doctor was a good liar, even managing to hold my gaze. “He doesn’t look like a junkie to me.”
“Well, he is.” Ah, there were his true colors. “He was wasting his life. At least now he’s doing something,helpingsomeone else.”
My lips twisted with disgust. “You’re all for helping, aren’t you?”
