Vance did not lower the shotgun, but his hands shook so hard the barrel tapped against the doorframe.

“My family,” Vance said, his voice cracking. “Sarah and Toby. Where are they?”

Leo waved a hand dismissively, not looking at him.

“They are safe at home,” Leo said. “The men I left there are already leaving.”

Vance let out a ragged breath that sounded like a sob.

The shotgun barrel dipped toward the floorboards.

“You swear to God, Romano?” Vance whispered.

“I do not swear to God,” Leo said, taking a step into the kitchen. “But I keep my deals when they are useful to me.”

One of Leo’s men stepped forward and snatched the shotgun from Vance’s grip.

Vance did not fight back.

He stood there with his arms hanging at his sides, looking like a ghost in his own house.

He looked at me once, his eyes full of shame, and then he looked down at his own mud-stained boots.

“I had to, Clara,” he muttered to the floor. “I couldn’t let them hurt my kids.”

I didn’t answer him.