"And while they're watching?"
"While they're watching, I get close to Hargrove. I have the financial data now. I don't need a confession—I need a reaction. A tell. The kind of involuntary response a man produces when someone who shouldn't know about his offshore funding demonstrates that they do."
Killian is quiet. He’s running the scenario. I can see it in his eyes—processing variables in his own language. Leverage. Fields of fire. Exits.
"I'll need a suit," he says.
"I'll handle the suit."
"If someone touches me at this thing?—"
"No one will touch you. You're the Reaper. The point of your reputation is that people maintain a respectful distance."
"And if Hargrove runs?"
"He won't run at a gala. He'll smile. He'll shake hands. He'll be the perfect politician. And I'll be the perfect Falcone heir who sees everything."
Rory raises his hand. "Can I come?"
"No," Killian and I say simultaneously.
The synchronization is involuntary. Rory’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks at his brother. Looks at me. A grin spreads across his face.
"Okay, married people. Point taken."
My phone vibrates.
The sound is jarring. We’ve been in a communications blackout since the industrial district. I powered the phone on ten minutes ago to check for updates from Rocco.
The screen shows a single incoming call.
PADRE.
My father.
The temperature in the studio drops. Salvatore Falcone does not call. He summons. He dispatches Rocco. A direct call means every protocol has been bypassed.
I pick it up.
"Alessandro."
His voice is a controlled burn. Quiet. Precise. Carrying the heat of a furnace with the door cracked open. The Italian accent is thick, vowels stretching, consonants sharpening.
"You will tell me where you are."
"I'm safe," I say.
"I did not ask if you were safe. I asked where you are. These are different questions."
"Father—"
"Thirty-six hours," he says. The cadence accelerates. "You have been missing for thirty-six hours. Your apartment is empty. Your car was found in an industrial district with bullet holes in the chassis and blood on the seats. Your phone has been dark. Your brother has been dark."
He pauses. I can hear him breathing.
"I have two dead soldiers," he says. "And a son who has vanished with the Kavanagh animal I gave him to. And you tell me you aresafe."
"The situation is complex."
