Chapter Four: Sunshine and Rot
The Florida sun was a lie. It hid the rot beneath the palms.
Vincent found Thorne drunk on a boat, skin leathered, heart bitter. When he saw Vincent, the color drained from his face like someone had opened a valve.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"You got paid to put me away," Vincent said, crouching beside him. "Tell me who signed the check."
Thorne laughed, choked on it. "You think you're going to burn them all down?"
Vincent leaned in. "No. Just the one who lit the match."
Thorne gave him a name before the bourbon took his last breath. Not Luca. Not even Carlo.
Giovanni Moretti.
His father.