“Of course,” Luca says smoothly. “Next time.”
Right then, his phone buzzes. He glances down, expression shifting the slightest bit…respectful, attentive.
He reads the message silently, pockets the phone, and reaches into his jacket.
“I have been instructed to give you this,” he says, producing a flash drive. “This contains the audio our man sent us as well as all intel we have collected on Cortéz and Los Fantasmas. Communications. Names. Associated businesses. Routes.”
Spike takes it, turning it between his fingers. “Thank you.”
Luca nods, then clears his throat.
“And… one more instruction.”
We all brace.
“Il Donasks if he may visit your compound in person,” Luca says. “In a few days’ time. To speak with you directly.”
Tank’s brows shoot up. “He wants to cometo us?”
“Yes,” Luca replies. “He believes it is time. But only with your permission. He will not approach your territory asil Donuninvited.”
Spike exchanges glances with us, then looks back at Luca.
“Why now?” he asks.
Luca’s answer comes simple and heavy.
“Because Cortéz has moved pieces into place faster than anyone predicted.” Luca’s voice softens, taking on something solemn. “AndIl Donbelieves alliances must be forged face-to-face… in truth and friendship… before the war reaches our doorstep.”
“Why not come out now?” I ask. “And you said he wouldn’t approach us as the Don uninvited. Does that mean he’s approached us as someone else?”
Luca’s eyes flick toward me, curious… but not startled.
“Il Donhas many roles,” Luca says. “Many obligations. When he travels, he travels under heavy protection…and heavy secrecy. It is safer that way.”
“So he has other identities?” Bones pushes.
Luca leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice lowering into something quiet and steady.
“When I sayIl Dondoes not approach you asthe Donunless invited… it means this: he will never arrive with an entourage. With his titles. With his crown on display.” He taps the table softly. “Power must be… earned. Not imposed.”
Bones crosses his arms. “That didn’t answer the damn question.”
Luca gives him a small, patient smile.
“I mean,” he continues, “thatIl Donmoves through this world as a man first. A leader second. And an enemy to no one who shows him respect.”
Spike narrows his eyes. “So… what? You’re telling us he doesn’t parade around shouting he’s the mafia boss?”
“Exactly.” Luca snaps his fingers once, the sound sharp. “He values anonymity. Freedom. The ability to walk into a room and not suffocate everyone with fear…unless of course, he desires to.”
Tank tilts his head. “You’re saying he blends in.”
Luca shrugs lightly. “You have seen men like him every day of your lives…men who are quiet, who listen more than they speak, who observe, who judge the world not by power but by character. Men who do not need to announce themselves to be respected.”
Something cold ripples through my chest.
“So wehavemet him,” I say slowly. “Just… not as the Don.”
