The tip of the blade sinks into the soft flesh of the man, and blood starts trickling down, hitting the asphalt every few seconds. “You got my attention now…” There’s more muffling before Carpela rolls toward me, his hands in his pockets and his suit somewhat disgruntled.

“You know he’s going to kill him, right?”

I lean back slightly, kicking out my foot. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out a reason why he shouldn’t.”

Tony inches down, his gray suit jacket spoiled with blood. Probably from getting the man into the car. Since we were making our way out to whatever bullshit party the La Rosas are throwing before we ran into this motherfucker following their car, we’re all still dressed for a damn gala and less for murder.

“I swear!” the man calls out. “Look, there’s, there’s—a man. He’s young, sort of, and dresses like you. He paid me five thousand dollars to follow her.”

Victor looks over his shoulder, and from beneath the streetlight, he seems wider.

I stand, rolling my shoulders back and slowly making my way beside Victor. Tilting my head, I follow the trail of blood. “What?”

“If we kill him, it’s not going to take care—” My hand flies to the handle of the knife that’s only partially sunk into his neck. I twist slowly as his screams turn to gargling whispers.

“Repeat yourself, but this time leave a name.” I keep twisting the blade.

“I-I don’t know! Ok—” I lean down this time so I’m eye level with him. His eyes are blue, but not like Poppy’s. They’re more like the color of the bottom of an old pool floor after it has been left all winter.

“Do I look like the kind of man who doesn’t know how to make your final minutes in this world feel like hours?” I lean in closer. “I can think of forty-two ways that I could kill you, and none of them are quick.” My thumb flies to the inside of his right eye and I sink it into the socket, watching as blood spills over my hand. “Now. Tell me a name, and I’ll make sure I won’t pay your family a visit.”

“We don’t touch family,” Tony whispers from behind. “You gonna tell him we don’t touch family?”

Victor doesn’t miss. “He seems busy. Are you?”

“Shit, man…” Tony mutters, stepping back.

“Okay—shit!” His bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know a name! H-he had a tattoo on his face. A cross. He drove an expensive car. I swear that’s all I know!”