Francesco needs to be eliminated. He's gotten too bold, too reckless, bringing Russians into Chicago like the established families mean nothing. Every day he breathes, he destabilizes the careful balance we've maintained for decades. The intelligence Sophia brought could be the key to ending him.
My phone buzzes. A text from Dante:Meeting with Giuliani moved to noon. Issues at the warehouse need addressing.
Always something. I pocket the phone, my mind still on the girl upstairs who asked for my help. Asked. Not demanded, not tried to seduce or manipulate. Just asked.
Even men like me have rules. An ethical code beaten into us from childhood, written in blood and enforced with bullets. We don't hurt women and children. We protect those who can't protect themselves. We honor legitimate requests for sanctuary, even from enemies, if the threat against them is real.
Francesco selling his own niece to a Russian psychopath violates every one of those codes. If Sophia's telling the truth—and that's still a massive if—then turning her away would make me no better than her uncle.
And there are some days that I don't think I really am better.
CHAPTER SIX
Sophia
Isink into the chair, my legs still shaking from having a gun pointed at my face.
Luna.
Of course I know about her and Lorenzo. Mother whispered the story once during one of her bad nights, morphine making her tongue loose. "Your cousin Luna broke that Sartori boy's heart. Stay away from both families, Sophia. Nothing good comes from mixing Torrino and Sartori blood."
My fingers trace patterns on the wooden table. Luna terrified me as a child. She had this way of looking at people like she was searching their weaknesses. At family gatherings, she'd smile with her mouth but her eyes stayed cold. The other cousins adored her—she was beautiful, brilliant, could speak four languages by the time she turned twenty-two. But I'd watch her practice knife tricks in Uncle Francesco's garden, flipping the blade between her fingers while humming Italian lullabies.
She'd catch me watching sometimes. "Little Sophia," she'd say, her voice silk over steel. "Always hiding in corners. What are you so afraid of?"
Everything about you, I'd think but never say.
The way Lorenzo shut Nico down makes my chest tight with questions. His whole body changed when Nico started to speak about her. Whatever happened between them runs deeper than a simple breakup. The kind of wound that never quite heals right.
I press my palms against my eyes.
The door swings open. Lorenzo enters carrying a plate piled with more food and a steaming cup of coffee. His jaw stays tight, that muscle jumping like he's grinding his teeth. He sets everything down with controlled precision, but his knuckles are white.
"Eat." The word comes out rough.
I wrap my fingers around the coffee mug, letting the heat seep into my cold hands. "I know about you and Luna."
His entire body goes rigid. Those warm brown eyes turn to black ice, and for a second, I see the man who runs half of Chicago's underworld. Not the one who makes eggs and checks on scared girls.
"My mother told me," I continue, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse hammers. "Years ago. She said Luna broke your heart."
"I'm not talking about her." His voice cuts through the kitchen air like a blade through silk.
The finality in those five words makes my stomach drop. Of course he won't discuss Luna with me. I'm just some desperate girl who showed up at his door, trading family secrets for protection. Nothing more.
"I'm not here to break you." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Lorenzo turns then, really looks at me.
"Even if you wanted to, there's nothing left to break." His mouth curves into quite a smile. "Besides, you're a kid."
That word again.
Kid.
Heat floods my face. My fingers tighten around the coffee mug until my knuckles ache.
"Stop calling me that."
