I think about Caligula’s golden eyes.
And I think about the safe house, when he told me how well he’d been taking care of himself. I never gave him enough credit. Maybe he’ll be okay without me.
Maybe he’ll be just fine.
I take another fist to the face and turn to spit out blood, run my tongue around my teeth. I was hoping to find one last taste of Caligula, one last atom of our kiss in the bedroom, but there’s nothing in my mouth but copper.
“It’s still Saturday night,” I point out, even though I know it won’t make a difference. “Big Gee’s jumping the gun.”
“You wanna know why this is happening?” Pardini asks, circling the chair. “Because we already know you’re a traitor. You chosea fucking Clemenza over your Family.” He leans in. “And I know all about it, because Conti spilled everything. Thought I was on his side, thought I’d help him push Big Gee out. Stupid fuck didn’t realize I’ve been feeding everything he said back to Big Gee.”
Does Seb know his trusted friend has been working against him? Everything he planned must be compromised. Every move he made to rein in his brother, undone before it started.
“I hope Seb makes it real fuckin’ painful when he ends you,” I tell him.
Pardini grins and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a plastic bag. He holds it up in front of my face.
Inside is a piece of skin. Maybe an inch square, ragged at the edges where it was cut. And in the center, black ink on olive flesh: the letter “G.”
I know that tattoo almost as well as my own. The faint white line through the bottom of the letter where Seb caught his hand on a barbed-wire fence one night. The slight blowout on the left side where the needle went too deep.
“Conti’s been taken care of already,” Pardini says, tucking the bag back into his jacket. “Now it’s your turn.”
The sound that comes out of me isn’t a scream. It’s something from before language, from the part of me that is still the kid who was pulled out of the worst years of his life by Sebastiano Conti.
And Pardini just smiles. “He was actually proud of you, can you believe that? Proud of you for going against your vows. But Iguess we shouldn’t expect any better from a couple of goddamn queers.”
The others laugh. But I’ve heard it all before.
I chose Caligula. I chose him and I’d do it again.
Seb died because he chose honor over obedience. The path I could never walk with him because I was too busy trying to punish a man for his father’s sins, break the man I…
I can’t finish that thought. Not here. Not now.
“I already bagged one trophy,” Pardini says. “Time for another.” He pulls out a knife and grabs my wrist and twists my hand so the “G” tattoo faces up. The zip tie cuts deeper. I can’t feel my fingers anymore, but I can feel the blade when he sets it against my skin.
And I hear myself laughing.
Caligula hated that tattoo. Every time he looked at it, his mouth would twist. And now it’s coming off, but he’ll never know—because this body of mine is gonna get cut up and put in separate drums somewhere, which will all get filled with concrete and thrown in the river.
I know, because I’ve done it myself.
So Caligula will never know that the one thing that still connected me to the Giulianos is gone. I wish I could tell him. I wish he could know.
I wish I’d done a lot of fucking things different in my life, starting all the way back when I was thirteen.
“What the fuck’s so funny?” Pardini demands.
But I can’t speak anymore. Can’t find the words or the will. So the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Caligula.”
“Listen to that—this motherfucker’s still thinking about his fuck toy,” Pardini says, looking around at the rest of the group. They’re all laughing again. And so is he. “Don’t worry, rat,” he says, picking up the knife again. “The Russians are taking care of him. In fact, I bet they’re around there right now, taking care of business.”
“Won’t get in,” I slur out.
“Oh, they don’t want to get into that fortress of yours,” he says, winking at me as though we’re sharing a joke. “In fact, they’re gonna make sure that everyone in that house stays put.”
It takes me a moment to understand what he means, but when I do, I’m filled with horror.