The Price of Mercy and the Shadow of the Moretti Family
“You need to be able to protect yourself, Lena,” he said quietly. “If Paul finds you before my men find him, you shoot.”
I stared at the cold steel of the gun, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I thought of Paul’s heavy hands, the bruises he had left on my skin, and the terror that had ruled my life for years.
I thought of Don Corrado, a man who used violence like currency to buy obedience.
If I took that gun, if I resolved this with blood, I would be stepping into their world forever.
I would become another shadow in the dark, bound to Vincent’s debt and chased by my own actions.
“No,” I said, pushing his hand away. “I won’t do it.”
Vincent’s eyebrows rose slightly. “He will not hesitate to kill you, Lena.”
“Then he will go to prison for it,” I said, my voice growing steadier. “But I am not going to become like him.”
I reached into the deep pocket of my wet coat and pulled out a thick, plastic-wrapped folder.