Chapter 59

December 20^th

Cato’s point of view

Luciano sat on the opposite of the table, his wrists shackled and four guards in the room. My Dad sat next to me, staring at Luciano, not saying a word.

“Why didn’t you just ask?” I said.

Dad scoffed, “Because he knew the answer he’d get.”

“I would never refuse to help a nine-year-old with terminal leukaemia,” I said.

“Then your father failed to raise you well,” Luciano said, his eyes shifting from Dad to me, “You don’t help your enemies.”

“He has his mother’s heart,” Dad said, “She helped you even after you gave Andrea Martinez the coordinates of the bunker all our children hid in.”

“And if she hadn’t, you would be drinking champagne with your Lunas tonight. But here you are in a dark prison cell with me.”

I res