I don’t wait for him to open the door.
The morning air bites my skin, but I don’t flinch. There’s too much fire under my ribs to feel cold. My phone buzzes once in my pocket. A text from Luca.
LUCA: Tracking heat signatures from the alley. No prints. No cams. Ghost.
Figures.
Whoever this man is, he’s careful. But not careful enough.
He watched me.
He followed me.
NowI’mgoing to followhim.
And when I catch up, when I find out who sent him, I won’t just burn the evidence.
I’llburyhim with it.
Bury him so deep, not even the dead will speak his name.
Enzo drives off without a word.
He knows where to take the body. Knows how deep to dig, who to pay off, what to burn. It’s not his first time, and it won’t be his last.
Most people think he’s just a driver. But Enzo’s more than that. He’s family in the way blood never quite is. He’s loyal, discreet, and capable of making someone disappear before breakfast. He’s been with us since the early days, back when theVitale name was still clawing its way back to power. We don’t talk much, but we don’t have to.
He does the jobs we don’t always have time for.
And usually, I’d handle it myself. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. Hell, I prefer it. Makes the message clearer. Cleaner.
But I’ve got bigger things to deal with.
Someone’s been following me. Slipping past our security. Getting too close.
And I don’t like what that says about him, or what it says about me.
I open the door, step out and walk the familiar path up the stairs, my shoes echoing across marble as I enter the foyer.
I don’t need to look to know she’s here. I can feel her presence like frost on glass.
“Did you clean up the mess you made?”
Her voice cuts through the quiet like a knife through silk.
I look up. Allegra Vitale stands at the top of the staircase, wrapped in black cashmere with pearls at her throat like a noose worn for fashion.
“Which one?” I ask, unbuttoning my coat. “There’s been so many.”
She descends the stairs slowly, every movement controlled, every word loaded.
“Don’t be clever, Nicolò. That’s your father’s blood showing.”
“I thought you liked that about him.”
“I liked that he knew when to stop. You—” she narrows her eyes “you’re too fond of fire. One day you’ll light the wrong match.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “If that day comes, I’ll burn the whole fucking city before I go out.”
