On his capacity to see ugliness and still choose beauty.
On his ability to love me despite knowing exactly what kind of monster I could be.
Saturday would prove whether that faith was justified.
Or whether I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.
Either way, no more hiding.
No more protection.
Just truth.
However dark it might be.
CHAPTER 25: EMILIO
"THE OTHER PARTNERSreceived invitations too," Sandro said Saturday evening while we were getting ready. "Elio and Luca declined. Matteo's coming."
I paused while knotting my tie. "Why is Matteo coming?"
"He doesn't trust that we'll be safe on our own. Says if the Costellos are planning something, he wants to be there." Sandro adjusted his cufflinks—platinum with the Vitale crest. "Also, he's curious. None of us have been invited to one of these events before."
"Should I be more worried than I already am?"
"Probably." He came up behind me and fixed my tie. His hands were steady but I could feel the tension radiating off him. "But Matteo's presence actually makes things safer. He's a deterrent against anything too aggressive."
I turned to face him. "You're worried."
"Yes."
"About what specifically? That they'll hurt us? That it's a trap?"
"That you'll see something tonight that makes you realize you can't love me anymore." He said it quietly. Honestly. "That showing you this world will be the thing that finally breaks us."
I cupped his face. "There's nothing that could break us now. I've already crossed every line. Compromised every principle. Paid off a witness to save you. There's nothing you can show me that'll change how I feel."
"We'll see about that."
The car arrived at 8:30 PM. Matteo was already in the front passenger seat when we got in. He nodded at us but didn't speak. Thomas pulled away from the estate and headed toward Red Hook.
The drive took forty minutes. I watched the city change through the windows. Manhattan's glittering towers giving way to Brooklyn's industrial waterfront. Warehouses and shipping containers. The kind of neighborhood where things happened that people didn't talk about.
Sandro held my hand the entire drive. His grip was almost painful. I squeezed back, trying to communicate wordlessly that I wasn't going anywhere.
Matteo finally broke the silence. "You sure about bringing him to this?"
Sandro's voice was tight. "He deserves to see what our world really looks like."
"Your funeral." But Matteo's tone wasn't cruel. Almost concerned. "Just remember—don't react to anything you see tonight. Don't try to help. Don't try to stop anything. Just observe."
"That's what Sandro said."
"Because it's important. The people who attend these events don't tolerate interference. You react wrong, you put all of us at risk."
"Understood."
The car pulled up to a warehouse that looked abandoned from the outside. Broken windows. Graffiti. Nothing to suggest it housed anything except rats and homeless people.
