Page 179 of Taming Seraphine
It was all one giant conspiracy. Samson must have hired Anton’s firm to assassinate Dad, Gregor, and their inner circle. I must have been part of, if not all, of the payment. Then Anton ordered his second-in-command to handle me. That’s where it gets twisted.
Anton knew I found him disgusting, as did Samson, so they ordered Leroi to get close to me and become my new handler.
They’d learned from their past mistakes and knew I would rebel if Leroi trained me with the chip and collar. That’s why they set him up as my white knight. They wanted to direct my loyalty to Leroi, which is why he was so generous and kind.
How could I have been so dumb?
Leroi completed the training that Anton couldn’t give me, even going so far as to get me to kill the guards closest to Dad, so that Samson could rule the Capello empire without any opposition.
Shit.
I’ve been nothing but a pawn.
What if the lie started the night Dad’s guards attacked Mom? What if it began with Gabriel, whose throat they slit to stop me from learning the truth? I no longer know what to believe.
I drive through the traffic, trying to outrun my thoughts. The bullet wound is a dull ache, pounding in time with my pulse, but it’s nothing compared to the hole in my heart. Everyone I thought I loved is part of this conspiracy. All of them must die.
The street signs lead me to Queen’s Gardens. I find my way back to where it all began. Pulling up to the Capello mansion, I park out of sight and open the glove box. After stuffing the gun, the knife, and the computer tablet into Miko’s jacket, I place the garment over my shoulders and make my way to Pietro Fiore’s house on foot.
* * *
Pietro’s house is the perfect hideout. There’s still food in the cupboards and a first-aid kit. The bullet I thought was lodged in my shoulder is actually just a flesh wound and after some pills and some thorough disinfecting, the pain is no longer all-consuming.
Two more men remain on my original list of people to kill: Edoardo Barone and Samson Capello. I still don’t know what’s real, but something tells me that If I don’t kill Edoardo, he’ll continue to haunt my nightmares. There’s no question about what I want to do with Samson. He will die slowly.
I can’t believe Mom is alive and working with Leroi. My mind skips back to the night I couldn’t save her, and suddenly, everything makes sense.
She must have seen me through the gap in the door, watching her at the mercy of those men. Seen me standing there, not lifting a finger to help. I let her get beaten and violated, and that’s why she teamed up with Anton and Leroi for revenge.
I clutch my temple, trying to quiet my racing thoughts. Time is running out. Samson is still out there with his assassins, and I can’t fall back into his or anyone’s clutches. Once he’s dead, I’ll work out how to deal with the others.
A quick search on Miko’s tablet reveals three people in town called Edoardo Barone. One of them lives in a small house in Queen’s Gardens within a one-minute walk from my new hideout.
This has to be my target.
I wait until after dark, using the rest of the day to gather weapons, fix an omelet, and dye my hair with a fresh batch of coffee. There’s even time for a nap. When the streets are quiet and all the houses go dark, I change into a black shirt I’ve stolen from Pietro’s closet and sneak out of the house with a backpack.
The night is silent, with the only sounds coming from the distant traffic. I make my way down the street with my head bowed to avoid being seen under the streetlights.
Edoardo’s house is in the corner, and there’s a light on in the living room. My lips tighten. Infiltrating his house without Leroi’s help will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, I killed dozens of targets before partnering up with a hitman. I walk around to the back of the house and find an unlocked window.
Hoisting myself up is painful with my flesh wound, but I clench my teeth, and climb into his kitchen. It’s a dark space with every surface covered in trash. I land in a crouch, upsetting some plastic food wrappers.
The laugh track of a sitcom draws me out into the hallway and into the living room, where I find a man lounging on a leather couch in front of a wall-mounted television. He sits with his back to me, holding a can of beer, staring at the huge screen.
My lip curls.
How nice of him to unwind after a day’s work.
Because of the likes of him, I will never know peace.
I don’t really think what happened to Mom was staged. Even if it was, the nightmares I suffered were real, as were the five years I spent in that basement. Edoardo will tell me where I can find Samson or die horribly.
I extract the gun, creep up behind Edoardo, and press the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. “Don’t move.”
He stiffens, the beer can falling loose from his fat fingers.
“Who the fuck is this?” he snarls.