Page 272 of Marcello

Funnily enough, Cesare himself had desensitized me to his threats. He’d shoved a gun in my face so many times, I didn’t even register it.

All I cared about was saving that woman on the floor.

I hadn’t prayed in seven years – but I prayed now.

Please God –

PLEASE help me convince him.

“Dario Rosolini’s coming up the stairs,” I said calmly. “We need to get out of here.”

Wrong thing to say. Cesare was delighted with the news.

“YES! Let’s go KILL the motherfucker!”

“He’s got two dozen men with him,” I lied.

I mean, maybe it was a lie.

For all I knew, he’d shown up with an army.

Cesare hesitated, as I knew he would –

Then crazy and stupid won out.

“We can take them,” he said confidently.

“On the way up here,” I said, “I counted ten dead Cosa Nostra and fourteen of our men. Counting you, me, and the other four guys, we have six left. You really want to take on two dozen Cosa Nostra?”

Cesare was crazy, yes –

And stupid –

But he wasn’t a moron.

However, he was an absolute monster.

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll just kill his whore.”

He swung his gun towards the pregnant woman’s head.

No.

I don’t care if I die, but I’m not going out with THIS on my conscience.

I placed my hand on his gun and whispered, “Then Rosolini won’t know it was you who did this to him.”

This is the part where the hero appeals to the monster’s ego.

I saw the struggle play out on Cesare’s face.

I knew what he wanted most –

And that was his undoing.

“Shit,” he muttered. Then he went manic again. “I know – I’ll write my name in her blood – ”

“We have 30 seconds at most,” I interrupted, “and then we’re dead.”