“But I’ll ask again. Please, let Luca leave. He needs to get to my family. He needs to secure what remains of the estate and travel to our main headquarters to begin sorting this shit out.”
“We’re not going to kill you,” Spike mutters, dragging a hand down his face like he can’t believe this is real life. “I believe you when you said you never passed along club information. And that’s a hell of a thing, considering we let you into some of the most personal war room meetings we’ve ever had.”
Maverick nods once. No smile. No relief. Just acknowledgment.
Spike leans forward, eyes hard with the weight of everything.
“We need to work together to put Los Fantasmas in the ground,” he says. “And we can’t do that without trust.”
He holds Maverick’s stare.
“Tell me, Maverick… can we trust you? Can we trust your family?”
Maverick stands, slipping his hand inside his pocket, and pulls out a thick gold ring.
I squint at it, confused.
Tank leans closer. Bones tilts his head.
But Luca…Luca goes pale.
“Don…” he breathes. “No. No, you cannot.”
Maverick doesn’t even glance at him.
He steps forward and sets the ring gently on the table in front of Spike.
“What is this?” Spike asks, brows knitting.
Luca makes a choked sound, but Maverick lifts a hand sharply.
“Silence, Luca.”
The man obeys instantly.
Maverick turns back to Spike.
“This,” he says, gently touching the ring, “is mycresta di sangue.”
Tank frowns. “Your… what now?”
Crusher mutters, “Sounds like a pastry.”
Luca looks physically ill.
What the hell is going on?
Maverick drags in a slow breath, trying…and failing…to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“It is my blood crest,” he explains, retaking his seat. “The ring has passed from Don to heir for generations. It is the symbol of my family’s authority. My name. My legacy. My entire empire.”
The room goes quiet, but not understanding quiet.
More likeoh-shit-we’re-missing-something-importantquiet.
Spike glances between Maverick and the ring.
“And you’re giving it to me… why?”
