Enzo chuckled, low and humorless. “You think this is about money?”
He stepped closer, the broken pole still in his hand. “You’re not buying your way out of this one. Not with cash. Not with promises. Not anymore.” Then, he slammed it on Lassiter’s other knee.
This time Lassiter shouted—a high, broken sound of panic and pain that echoed off the walls—then whimpered, shoulders shaking. “What is this? Why am I here? Where’s McKendrick?”
Enzo crouched again, dropping the metal pole with a loud clang that made Lassiter flinch. “You mean ourfriendKillian?” Enzo said, voice low and rough. “I expect he’s out there right now… waiting for you to die.
“What? No, he’s…” Understanding flickered in his expression. “Fuck you!”
“So, Roman Lowe.”
“I don’t know what you’re?—"
Enzo placed a finger on Lassiter’s lips, and I watched him lean in close, his expression as hard as stone. “Let me tell you who Roman Lowe really was,” he said, his voice flat and hollow. “He was a kid. A boy without a family, a kid in the system, someone with too many dreams and too few choices. You hurt him every time you went to Mitchell’s place. Every single visit. You caged him. You hit him. You fucked him. You treated him as if he was nothing—as if he didn’t bleed, didn’t scream, didn’t matter.”
Lassiter’s mouth opened and, from where I stood, I could see recognition in his expression, but no sound came out. I watched Lassiter shrink in thechair, and for a moment, I saw it through Robbie’s eyes. The terror. The helplessness. The way his voice had gone small when he’d talked about being owned.
I wanted to burn Lassiter. But Enzo wasn’t finished. He didn’t rage. He didn’t scream. He just told the truth. And that was somehow worse.
“It wasn’t me,” Lassiter wheezed, trembling, eyes wide with desperation.
Enzo didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the steel pipe again and drove it across Lassiter’s face with a sickening crack. The man’s nose burst open, blood pouring down over his lips and chin. A second blow caught his cheekbone, splitting the skin and painting his collar in red.
Lassiter screamed, then choked, then whimpered. “Please—please stop?—”
Another blow silenced him.
Every time he begged. Every time he denied he knew anything. Enzo swung again.
By the time the pipe clanged to the floor, Lassiter was a mess—head lolling, drool and blood spilling from his mouth, breathing in ragged gasps.
“You used pipes, the same as this, on him, didn’t you?” Enzo’s voice was cold. “Shoved objects in him. Made him bleed. Scarred him.”
“Please—"
He stepped forward, gripped Lassiter’s hair to tilt his head back, then waved the pipe as he stared Lassiter in the eye. “Maybe I should do that to you.”
Lassiter whimpered and coughed, thick and wet. No more denials. Just pain and fear and blood.
And still… not enough.
That was where Rio came in, crouching beside Lassiter and waving a harsh-smelling ampoule under his nose—something Caleb had sent, meant to jolt the body back from the edge. Lassiter groaned, shaking his head in frantic movements.
“No, no, no. I’m sick. I’ll get help. No, no,” he whispered, voice raw. “He’s dead now. It wasn’t my fault. No more… please… I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me. I’m sorry…”
Enzo knelt again, close enough that Lassiter could feel the heat of his breath.
“Roman’s not dead. He’s very much alive, and I love that man,” Enzo said, low and steady. “He’s the other half of my heart. And for what you did to him, you’re dying today. You get that, right?”
Lassiter made a sound, more animal than human, and Enzo held out his hand.
Rio, solemn now, handed him a blade—no hesitation, nothing but grim understanding.
“Some nights, he can’t stop crying, and eventhough I hold him, it’s not enough. He tells me he’s okay, but he’s never going to be okay for real. It breaks my heart.” Enzo wrapped his fingers around the hilt and turned it slowly in his palm, then leaned in and sliced into Lassiter’s wrist—slow, deliberate, not deep enough to kill, but enough to terrify. He sawed through skin, shallow layers of flesh, and Lassiter screamed, head jerking.
“He’ll die too soon,” I warned.
Enzo stepped back, breathing hard, nostrils flaring.
