Page 121 of The Beast Who Broke Me
There’s a murmur of assent.
Meanwhile, that motherfucker’s blood is dripping all over the carpet.
“In that case, I think we’ll call this meeting to a close,” Caligula says. “The next time we meet, you will take your vows to me.”
Ferraro knocks on the table, and the rest of them take it up, a tribal noise that suggests more approval than cheering or clapping might.
And the Clemenza just stands there and soaks it in. Or…seems to, anyway.
The men were watching Scaglietti hit the table. But I was watching Caligula, like I always do. And I know what I’m looking at is a man holding himself together with nothing but determination.
“Strike, take a couple of men and clean up this mess. I don’t want Rosa to have to deal with it,” he orders. “But remove the hand—the one with the tattoos. I’ll keep it for now.”
He leaps to obey, grabbing Big Mike and his son to help.
I herd the rest of them out, and then I look back in on the clean-up. Ferraro gives me a nod. “He’s something, eh? That kid.”
“He is,” I agree.
I was wrong about Caligula Clemenza. Again.
He wasn’t going to let that fucker get away with hurting Sammy. No way, no how. But he found a way to do it that served every purpose at once. Justice for Sammy. Proof of his first kill. Elimination of the Morelli spy. Authority established.
Four birds, one bullet. And the only person in the room who saw the cost to him was me.
I go downstairs to check on Sammy. Rosa meets me in the kitchen, her face tight with worry. “He’s locked himself in,” she says. “He won’t talk to me.”
I try his door. Locked, like Rosa said, and the punk music coming from behind it is so loud I can barely hear myself think. I press my forehead against the wood. “Sammy,” I shout. “He’s dead. You hear me? He’s dead, and he’s never gonna touch you again.”
Nothing. Just the music, pounding through the door like an angry heartbeat.
So I head back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, and thinking about the next problem. Because for all his cleverness, Caligula just created a big fucking issue with the Morellis. He killed one of their men, and it gives D’Amato an excuse now to withdraw those protections. Call for a free-for-all on the last Clemenza.
I’m also thinking about the way he spilled his guts when I killed that guy outside the townhouse.
I need to check on him.
CHAPTER 41
CALIGULA
“Is Sammy okay?”is the first thing I ask when Dami comes into the bedroom.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed with my hands between my knees, because they won’t stop shaking.
I killed a man.
I’ve been telling myself that over and over, and it still doesn’t feel real. The weight of the gun in my hand felt real. The sound was real: that flat crack, smaller than I expected, nothing like the movies. The way the body collapsed instantly was real. The blood, spreading across the table in a slow dark pool, was real.
My hands are shaking, and I can’t make them stop. But a Don’s hands don’t shake.
“No,” Dami says. “Sammy’s not okay.” He doesn’t sugarcoat it. He stands in the doorway, looking as troubled as I feel, and his eyes travel over me from head to foot and back again. “You ever even shot a gun before tonight?”
I shake my head, give a smile that feels like a grimace. “Good thing you already took the safety off, huh?”
He says nothing to that.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I never would have allowed that man in here if I’d known he was connected to—well. That.”
