Smiling.
Something is wrong.
I slow my approach, my hand moving toward my weapon. Ciro tenses beside me.
"Don Rossi," Vittorio calls out, his voice carrying across the restaurant. "Right on time. Please, come join us."
The other diners are starting to notice. Starting to sense something wrong. A few are standing, preparing to leave.
"Nobody moves!" one of Vittorio's men shouts, pulling a gun. "Everyone stays seated. Hands on tables."
The restaurant freezes. Civilians gasping, frightened.
This isn't our operation anymore.
It's theirs.
We walked straight into a trap.
I keep walking toward the table, my mind racing. Calculating. Looking for exits, for angles, for how many men they have hidden.
And then I see it.
In the center of the table. Between the water glasses and the wine bottle.
A stuffed rabbit.
Worn. Loved. One ear slightly torn.
Elena's rabbit.
"Recognize it?" Vittorio asks pleasantly. "Cute toy. The little girl wouldn't stop crying for it. We thought we'd bring it along. You know as proof."
Fuck.
"Where are they?" My voice comes out different. Tight. Dangerous.
"Somewhere safe. For now." Vittorio leans back, completely relaxed. "Did you really think we wouldn't figure it out, Rossi? That we wouldn't investigate? That we wouldn't find out you survived?" He gestures around the restaurant. "Did you really think you were setting a trap?"
"Where are they?" I ask again.
"Who? Your whore and her child? Let's just say they're being well looked after. As long as you cooperate."
Ciro's hand is on my arm, holding me back. "Boss. Stay calm. Think."
But I can't think. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but stare at that rabbit.
Elena never goes anywhere without it. She sleeps with it. Carries it everywhere.
They took it from her.
They took her.
"Here's how this works," Vittorio continues. "You and your men put down your weapons. You walk out of here. You disappear. Go back to your little farm, go to Brazil, go anywhere. I don't give a fuck. But you're done. Finished. Out of the business." He picks up the rabbit, examining it. "Do that, and in a few days, we let the woman and child go. Unharmed. They get to go home. You get to know they're safe."
"And if I don't?"
Vittorio's smile disappears. "Then I make a phone call. And the people holding them do what they've been instructed to do." He pauses. "It won't be quick. And the child will watch her mother die first."
