“Tony wanted the empire, but he wanted a Vargas to pull the trigger so his own hands stayed clean.”

“He wanted Marcus to take the fall for your murder.”

Victor let out a ragged breath, his head leaning back against the mahogany desk.

“I loved that boy like my own,” he said.

“He is trying to kill you because he thinks he is avenging his father,” I said.

The phone on the desk vibrated again, the screen casting a harsh blue glow on Victor’s pale skin.

It was still Tony.

The screen timed out, leaving us in the dim light of the desk lamp.

Then, the ringer started again.

“Answer it,” I said.

Victor reached out, his fingers slick with his own blood.

He pressed the receiver and held it to his ear, his breathing heavy.

I leaned close to listen.

“Victor?” Tony’s voice came through the speaker, calm and smooth.

“Are you still with us, old friend?”

Victor did not speak. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched.

“Marcus said the job was done,” Tony continued. “But my scouts say there is no ambulance.”