Ennio doesn’t seem to understand the danger he is in. Either that or he no longer cares. He shrugs. “I see it differently. My father was also willing to do whatever needed to be done to protect himself, his image, his position. He didn’t let my mother take everything from him. Some say it makes him a monster. Others say it makes him strong. Who gets to decide which one of those is right?”
I’m tempted to hit him upside the head with the tire iron just to be done with this conversation. “There are other ways to deal with the people we love.”
“Less efficient ways. Murder is the fastest.” Ennio readjusts on the floor, tucking his legs in even closer and sliding his hands under his thighs to keep warm. “My father always said that sentiment is a dangerous game in the mafia world.”
“Funny that
