Chapter 12 - THE BITTER ANTIDOTE
Z
The basement of the safehouse smelled of damp concrete, copper, and fear. It was a space I had explicitly avoided during my early days of treating Massimo, instinctively knowing it was designed for things that violated the Hippocratic Oath. Now, I was standing at the top of the metal staircase, listening to the muffled sounds of a man fighting for his life.
The sommelier had bled out on the floor of L'Eclisse, taking the answers with him. But Salvi, Don Carmine's proxy, had survived. Barely. Lorenzo had put a bullet in his kneecap, and Massimo’s men had dragged him back to the safehouse before the police sirens even registered in the North End.
It was 3:00 AM. Massimo had been down there for two hours.
I tightened the belt of my silk robe and slowly descended the stairs. The air grew colder with every step. When I reached the bottom, the scene before me made my stomach churn, yet I couldn't look away.
Salvi was strapped to a heavy steel chair in the center of the room beneath a harsh, swinging halogen bulb. His face was a bruised, bloody mess. Massimo stood over him, his white dress shirt ruined, his sleeves rolled up, knuckles split and bleeding. Lorenzo stood in the corner, a silent sentinel holding a pair of heavy pliers.
"I'll ask you one last time, Salvi," Massimo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. It wasn't the roar of an angry man; it was the cold, hollow tone of an executioner. "How did you know we were dining at L'Eclisse tonight? That reservation was made under a shell corporation three hours prior. You have a mole in my organization. Give me the name."
Salvi spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete. "Go to hell, Pascale. The Commission is going to wipe you and your little nurse off the map. You're a dead man walking."
Massimo didn't blink. He reached out, his hand wrapping around Salvi’s broken jaw, squeezing until the man let out a muffled shriek of agony. "My patience is gone. Lorenzo, get the blowtorch."
"Massimo, stop."
My voice cut through the basement like a scalpel. Massimo whipped around, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wide with shock. He hadn't heard me come down.
"Tessa, get upstairs. Now," he commanded, a flash of genuine panic in his eyes. He didn't want me to see this. He didn't want the monster he had to be to stain the woman he loved.
I didn't retreat. I walked fully into the light, my bare feet cold against the concrete. I approached the chair, ignoring the gore, focusing entirely on Salvi’s physiological state.
"He's going into hypovolemic shock," I stated clinically, checking the makeshift tourniquet Lorenzo had applied to Salvi's shattered knee. "His heart rate is plummeting. If you torture him anymore, his cardiovascular system will collapse. You’ll kill him before he gives you a name."
Massimo ran a bloodstained hand through his dark hair, frustration radiating from him in waves. "I need that name, Tessa. If there is a traitor in my inner circle, you aren't safe in your own bed."
I looked down at Salvi. The man was arrogant, banking on his impending death to save him from giving up the information. Physical pain had a limit. Eventually, the brain simply shuts down, releasing endorphins to block the trauma.
But psychological terror? That had no limit.
I turned to the metal medical cart I had stocked months ago. I picked up a sterile syringe and a small vial of clear liquid. I drew the fluid into the syringe, tapping it to remove the air bubbles.
Massimo and Lorenzo watched me in stunned silence.
I walked back to Salvi and grabbed his left arm, tying a rubber tourniquet around his bicep to make the vein pop.
"What are you doing?" Salvi slurred, his eyes widening in sudden panic as he looked at the needle. A mob boss with pliers he understood. A calm, beautiful woman with medical equipment terrified him.
"Do you know what potassium chloride is, Salvi?" I asked softly, my voice devoid of emotion. "It’s a chemical compound used in lethal injections. When injected directly into the bloodstream, it overrides the heart's natural electrical impulses. It causes massive, agonizing muscle cramps, followed by a total cardiac arrest. You don't pass out. You feel your heart tear itself apart from the inside."
Salvi’s breathing hitched. He thrashed against the restraints. "You're a doctor! You took an oath!"
"I'm a physical therapist," I corrected coldly, pressing the tip of the needle against the pulse point of his wrist. "And my oath was to do no harm to my patients. You are not my patient. You are the man who tried to kill the man I love."
I pushed the needle into his vein.
"Wait! Wait!" Salvi screamed, his bravado entirely shattered. Tears of absolute terror streamed down his bloodied face. "It was Russo! It was Capo Russo! He sold you out to Don Carmine in exchange for the North End territory!"
Massimo stiffened, a look of profound betrayal flashing across his features. Capo Russo was one of the oldest men in the organization, a man who had mentored Massimo after his father died.
I pulled the needle out immediately, pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site.
Salvi collapsed against the restraints, sobbing in relief. "I gave you the name. Don't kill me. Please."
I looked at Massimo. He was staring at me, a mixture of awe and slight horror in his dark eyes.
"What was in the syringe?" Massimo asked quietly.
May you like
I set the needle down on the metal tray. "Normal saline," I replied, my voice shaking for the first time. "Salt water. It wouldn't have hurt a fly."
I turned and walked up the stairs, leaving them in the basement. I had gotten the answer without shedding a drop of blood, but as I reached the top of the stairs, I looked at my hands. They were clean, but I felt like the blood of Massimo's world had finally seeped into my skin. I had crossed a line, weaponizing my medical knowledge for the mafia. And the most terrifying part was, I didn't regret it.
