“Adamo?” “Yeah?” he croaked. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, you know you can trust me.” He nodded toward the burn scars on his forearm. It was the first I’d seen him with short sleeves in a while and my stomach tightened when I saw the many small cigarette burns that hadn’t been there before. “I can’t forget it. I dream about it every single night. About the helplessness, the agony, and worst the unrestrained hatred in their eyes. They wanted to destroy me in the most brutal way possible only because I was a Falcone.”
