Chapter 13

VALERIO

I didn’t have it in me to give her more.

Not tonight.

Not when I had a mission to complete that was brutal and required my utmost focus.

Not even her distinct scent, when aroused, on her tongue and coming off her skin, that drove me primal, had the power to lure me.

But what kind of monster made love to a woman when he was about to destroy a key pillar of what remained standing in her world?

I shrugged off my conscience, the voice of reason asking me to reconsider.

I wasn’t a beast, but as someone once said, exacting retribution for yourself or your loved ones was a right and an absolute duty.

Looking back, I didn’t know what was worse: the sharp ache of missing my parents or the helplessness that came with it.

I couldn’t bring them back.

For years, I couldn’t control my thoughts or emotions. Even basic things, like eating or showering, were sometimes impossible. It was more than sorrow; it was facing the unknown.

Questions kept filling my head— what if I’d reached for Olivio’s gun or one of his capos and iced them in time? Would I have saved my parents and uncle?

No answers came.

My grief washed over me in unpredictable waves. One moment, I’d feel numb; the next, in a fury or broken down.

Triggers burst out of nowhere, and despite counseling with my siblings, most days, I existed, unmoored from feeling and sensation.

So, as time passed, I built up an armor—perhaps one thicker than my fratello in some way—because I witnessed it go down before my eyes.

Worse, I’d had the chance to stop it but hadn’t.

I’d used enormous willpower to become controlled, ordered, and focused on the task.

I labored alongside my brothers, coldly plotting the demise of the men who ordered the hit and the one man who’d held me captive and made me view my parents’ deaths in real-time.

It was all about to come to fruition on this night.

I waited for the darkness to deepen.

While I did, I sat at my laptop and worked some magic.

At 3 a.m., I drove through Naples’ quiet streets and returned to the hospital, dressed in the janitor’s uniform I’d helped myself to earlier.

I eased into the reception, head down, cap on, shoulders bent.

No one took notice of the janitor. No one ever did.

My filched pass got me into the ward I needed.

I spotted an empty cleaning cart lying in my way, so I nabbed it and pushed it along to add to my credibility.

Several doctors passed me, and I nodded at them as they trudged wearily past.

When I swung by the nurses’ table, the pair behind the desk were lost in conversation and never glanced my way.

On I continued, getting closer to my mark.

The place was quieter at night, and the hum of machines was the only sound filling the halls.

I made my way to a small maintenance room on Ward 9 and extracted my iPad. I used Ciprioni proprietary software to access the hospital’s security feed I hacked earlier.

I pulled up Olivio’s wing and tapped out a series of commands to loop the video footage showing his current status as asleep.

I couldn’t wait any minute further.

Keeping my steps defeated, eyes down, and the cart trundling before me, I entered his room.

Again, I wondered why he didn’t have protection.

The man must have been a monster for his children to be so careless with his safety in his infirmity.

I sucked my teeth, wiping out any vestiges of compassion from my mind.

He didn’t deserve any sympathy, and I closed my eyes and hissed, the images of the blooming detonation crowding my thoughts.

The tragedy, the explosion, and the helplessness had never left me.

Perhaps after tonight, it might abate.

Only by a fraction, as I suspected, for the nightmare would never dissipate from the shadows of my psyche and soul.

The beeping of Olivio’s machines was moderate and steady, the breaths of the man in the bed even slower.

He didn’t even realize I was there until I stood beside him.

With a twist to my lips, I reached toward his monitors and turned them off.

Silence fell as his eyes fluttered open, and his dilated irises tried to focus on me.

‘Olivio.’

He blinked up at me, his eyes widening as recognition finally dawned.

‘ Tu ,’ he croaked in a ragged whisper. ‘The bodyguard.’

‘ Si . Me.’

I bent over him, my voice deep, growling, dangerous. ‘I’m not just your daughter’s protector. I’m the man whose life you ruined many years ago.’

His eyes floundered, and I laughed harshly. ‘You’ve no idea, do you? Given you’ve destroyed so much.’

He attempted to talk, hands moving with feeble shaking, grasping for the sheets.

I leaned in. ‘Calibrese. Recall that name?’

For a moment, I tagged zero perception in his clouded gaze.

Then, his eyes widened in horror.

‘ Si , my father, Stephano, mother, Selina, and uncle, Costa Calibrese. Three souls you took and entire lives - mine and my brothers - you imploded. Do you fuckin’ remember, sfigato ? The pain you caused? The suffering? Well, now I’m in your daughter’s world, and I’m going to dismantle everything you built. Every last thing. With my bare hands.’

Olivio’s lips twitched, and his mouth frothed as comprehension hit.

He spluttered, trying to say something, but nothing came out.

He appeared small and pathetic.

A far cry from the man who had once held so much power.

He struggled, choking in his sin, trapped in his own failing body, and for the first time in years, I felt nothing but contempt.

I slipped my Wilson from its holster, then its silencer, screwing the latter to the barrel with slow deliberation.

Olivio’s eyes followed, his eyes wide, contemplating his fate.

My face and my cold as fuck face must have terrified him so much that he began to wheeze and struggle for oxygen as sheer panic engulfed him.

With a rough hand, I reached for the pillow under his head, jerking it away.

His thin neck, once a boxer’s thickness, bounced back on the thinner pad below.

His exhales began to amp up into hoarse, jagged gasps.

With a groan, he clutched his chest.

I didn’t buy his act for a second.

Still, he lurched on the mattress in a panic, trapped in the thrall of his past sins.

I arched a brow with cold inscrutability, giving the same energy as he had when he played judge and executioner to my parents.

‘ A mali estremi, estremi rimedi ,’ I whispered. Extreme evil, extreme remedies.

With dispassionate coldness, I took one final look at my family’s killer, sucked my teeth, and placed the pillow over his gasping face.

I pressed in with one hand and, aiming, took a single shot to his covered temple.

Between the silencer and the padding, there was only a tiny puff of noise and an entry hole in the cotton.

I stepped back, eyes fixed on him as he jerked one last final time.

I lifted the pillow to the sight of a perfectly round wound and a seeping circle of red below his head.

His eyes, open and sightless, stared into the ceiling, bidding his soul farewell.

With a suck of my teeth, I slid my weapon and silencer back in my holster, switched on the monitors, and slipped out of the room.

The flat line alarm rang out as I turned a corner, pushing my janitor’s cart.

I paused to let the rush of doctors and nurses pass, racing toward the room I’d vacated.

With an inhale, I abandoned the trolley and strolled away.

Lavoro fatto.

Job done.