It’s a ghost town.
No laughter. No rivalry.
The few faces I do see all have the same expression as they rapidly move from place to place.
Fear.
I shovel down some food in the dining hall, taking in the number of empty chairs around me. Ignoring the top table, those five empty chairs.
Ghosts. Everywhere I look.
And if it’s not the ghosts, it’s Matteo’s men.
My hand clenches around my fork as I check my phone again.
No messages.
My fingers tap out the words despite myself.
I want to speak to you.
It turns red a moment later, matching the row of messages above it. All of the messages I’ve sent to Stefano Asante since that night.
Every single one of them bounced back, as if his phone is no longer in service.
I don’t look up as the seat across from me scrapes across the floor. Rocco keeps his voice low as he digs into his own food. “Fusco.”
I jerk my chin in greeting, mindful of the eyes on us, and abandon my plate in favor of downing the rest of my coffee and leaving him alone at the table. “See you at training.”
I hear them before I see them. Vito V’Arezzo’s replacement, our new fighting tutor, is arguing with one of Matteo’s men on the steps leading into the gym, gesturing in irritation. He snaps out the words without looking at me as I jog up to them. “Get inside. We’re already running late, thanks to this asshole.”
The soldier shifts awkwardly beneath his glare. “Matteo said—,”
Marco De Luca squares up to him, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t give afuckwhat Matteo said. I report directly to him, and you don’t even register in the damn hierarchy. I amtellingyou that I will teach the way that I see fit – and if that means pulling the scraps of this fucking campus together so I only have to teach once instead of running the same session five times over, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now get the hell off my steps, you whiny little bastard. If I see you again in the next hour, I will fucking shoot you.”
The soldier bolts as Marco turns to me, rubbing his hand over his face. “That’s not going to work forever.”
We walk down the hallway, pulling open the doors to the gym. Paul Maranzano slips out, giving me a nod, before he takes up his post further down the hall, tapping absently at his phone.
An early warning system.
Inside, the mood is grim. I glance around, checking to see who’s here.
Johnno, mynewenforcer, raises his hand in greeting from where he speaks to Vincent and Danny. Cat’s senior team is here in force, and I offer a nod to Frankie Costa when she meetsmy eyes. She nods back, her face distracted as Tony mutters something in her ear. Rocco strolls in behind me, whistling.
“This everyone?” Marco steps up beside me, his bushy eyebrows drawn. “What about—,”
We both turn at the sound of the door opening. Nico, Luc’s enforcer, slips inside. “Sorry. They’re fucking everywhere.”
“We’re here for training,” I remind him. “Marco has it covered.”
“For now.” Cat’s uncle nods towards the changing rooms. “Hurry up.”
Everyone disappears to change into workout clothes, to give the appearance of a training session in progress should any of the soldiers decide to risk Marco’s anger and come to check on us.
We settle in the middle of the boxing ring. Rocco is already on the phone, and Dante’s voice rings out when he presses the speaker. “—need those fucking blueprints.”
“Nothing yet?”
