Bastardi nodded slowly. "The virgin," he said flatly. "Where is she?"
He licked his lips, eyes darting toward the door, toward the street where his dog’s barking had faded into nothing. "I don’t know," he said hoarsely. "I swear."
"Think carefully. Because if you lie to me, Vito, this ends badly for everyone you love."
"She’s with Luciano Genovese. Both of them are," Vito said at last. His shoulders slumped. Years ago, he had been broader, louder, a man who still believed he had a say in how his life unfolded. Now he looked small on the couch, sweat beading along his hairline, hands clenched together.
Bastardi’s smile vanished.
"No," he said. "Luciano traded the virgin with me. Except she escaped. And now my client wants his money back. I don’t do returns." He tilted his head. "The girl?"
One of Bastardi’s men raised his gun smoothly, the metal pressing against Vito’s temple. Vito let out a broken sound that might have been a sob.
"I don’t know," he babbled. "I don’t know! I swear it. My other daughter called me this morning. She said she was safe. That’s all she said. Nothing else."
Bastardi’s eyes sharpened. "So your daughter knows where the virgin is."
Vito swallowed hard. "I... I guess so."
"And where is this other daughter?" Bastardi asked.
"She’s also with Luciano."
That finally drew a reaction. "Why is she with him?"
"Because he bought her at your goddamned auction!" he shouted.
Bastardi’s brain finally caught up, the pieces sliding together with a slow, ugly click. The auction night surfaced in his memory. The confusion. Luca’s rage when he realized they had taken the wrong sister. Bastardi’s jaw tightened, his lips curling back from his teeth.
"That son of a bitch double-crossed me," he spat.
Vito seized the opening, desperate. "Please," he begged. "I have nothing to do with it. I swear. I didn’t plan any of this."
"Oh, you have plenty to do with it," Bastardi said.
He straightened. "Call your daughter. The one who called you this morning. Tell her to come here. Tell her it’s an emergency."
Vito stared at him, horror flooding his face. "I can’t—"
The gun pressed harder into his temple.
"You can," Bastardi said softly. "And you will."
Hands shaking violently, Vito scrambled for his phone. His fingers fumbled, missing the screen twice before he finally unlocked it. Bastardi took a seat across from him, relaxed now, one ankle resting over his knee.
As Vito dialed, Bastardi turned his head toward his men. "Move the cars away from the street," he said casually. "We are going to have some fun today, boys."
*****


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