Rocco's POVA private sanatorium on a cliff at the westernmost tip of Sicily.The family had used all its resources to keep me alive.I sat in a wheelchair, the wool blanket I used to hate spread across my knees.The sea wind was cold. It smelled of salt and cut right through to the bone.The bullet had been removed, but the damage was done. Every breath felt like swallowing glass.“Cough… cough…”A wracking cough seized me.“Boss.”The heavy iron gate creaked open behind me.Luca walked in.He looked much older. His hair was almost all white. The once-proud right-hand man now looked at me with cautious pity.“Speak.”I forced out the word. My voice was a dry rasp.“News from… from Boston.”Luca paused, as if gauging my reaction, checking to see if I could handle it.“The wedding went well. No incidents. No one caused any trouble.”“The package was delivered at the end of the reception. She… she signed for it herself.”My stiff fingers twitched.She signed for it.That meant she accept
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