And as we headed for the door together, I already knew – whatever walked into that restaurant tonight, it would have to go through me first.
The restaurant was glowing – polished marble, brass accents, low amber light bouncing off crystal glasses. Power sat heavy in the air, disguised as laughter and expensive wine. Five families, one room, and for once, everything was… Smooth.
Francesca stood at my side, composed and lethal in heels, Gìo a few feet away talking to one of the Bronx guys. I leaned in close to her ear.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I murmured. “Stay with Gìo.”
She nodded easily, lips brushing my cheek. “I’ll be right here.”
I held her gaze for half a second longer than necessary, then turned and headed down the corridor toward the restrooms.
The bathroom was quiet – too quiet compared to the noise outside. I washed my hands slowly, grounding myself, watching the water run over my knuckles.
My phone rang.
Gìo.
“What’s up?”
“I just left the restaurant,” he said. “Francesca told me she was going to find you.”
“Alright. I’ll go find her.”
“I’ll see you Monday at the club. Have a good night. And make sure Francesca doesn’t cause any scenes.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Goodnight.”
I ended the call and pushed through the bathroom door.
The noise hit me first – the music, the chatter, the clink of glasses. My eyes scanned instinctively.
Francesca wasn’t there.
Not by the bar. Not near the tables. Not with our people.
I pulled my phone out and called her.
Straight to voicemail.
I called again to be sure.
Straight to voicemail.
My jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
I checked her phone’s location.
No location found.
The room suddenly felt too big. Too open. Every face a question mark. Every shadow a threat.
My hand curled slowly into a fist at my side.
She promised she wouldn’t leave my side.
I stopped the first DeMone soldier who crossed my path, catching him by the arm before he could sidestep me.
“Where’s Francesca?” I asked, voice low but sharp enough to cut.
