Salvatore paused at my remark. “Has our uncle been to one before?” he asked, a note of caution to his question.

“Why buy the product when he’s the supplier?” The more I thought about it, the guiltier Roman grew. The more I saw how he was always there, watching, silent, having earned Franco’s trust like no one else had, not even his sons.

“No. No way. He’s our fucking uncle, Dominic. Better than our father ever was to us.”

“Your father. Your fucking father.”

“Let it go already.”

“You try finding out you’re not who you thought you were for twenty-eight fucking years then let it go already.”

Another long silence filled the space, “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Exactly how much do you know about the auction?”

“It’s not my first.”

“Are you buying girls?”

“Providing trained girls.”

“Jesus.”

Fuck. I hung my head, shaking it. What the fuck was I doing? How many lives had I destroyed? How many more would I crush? All to prove to myself and the world the scum I was? God. Fuck. Putting a bullet in my own head would have been better than this.

“Dominic?”

“Yeah,” I said, wiping the back of my hand across my nose.

“We have to do something about the auction.”

I heard the we. And I knew what I needed to do.

I stood.

“No. Not we. Me. You’re not involved, not anymore, remember? You did good, getting yourself and Lucia out. Keep her safe now. Keep your family safe. Don’t tempt fate twice.” It had started out spiteful, but that last part, I meant it.

He paused, and I could almost hear him preparing to argue with me. But he didn’t. His family came first. Just like it should.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to find out if Roman’s involved first.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Dominic. He wouldn’t be involved in something like this. You’ve already tried and convicted him in your mind. And you’re on your own, remember that.”

Meaning I had no backing. None.

“I won’t be on my own.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mateo’s sister. She knows at least some of what’s going on. And she wants revenge for her brother’s murder.”

“She’s a woman. Untrained. Innocent, maybe. She’s a victim. You can’t involve her any more than she already is.”

“Haven’t you learned not to underestimate women with an agenda?” Isabella DeMarco’s name didn’t need to be said.

“Be careful with Roman,” Salvatore said soberly. “He’s different now. Harder.”

“He was always like that. You just never saw it.”

“I’ll talk to dad,” Salvatore said.

“How is he?” The question came before I could stop it.