"Feels like isn't proof," Stone said from the front seat. "Carlo won't accept 'feels like.' He needs hard evidence. A confession. Something definitive."
"Then we force her hand," Quentin said. "We make her expose herself."
"How?" I asked.
"The wedding," Quentin said, meeting my gaze. "We go through with it. Make it big. Public. Make it clear we're forming an alliance. If Filomena ordered those hits, if she's trying to stop us from uniting the families—"
"She'll have to make a move," I finished. "She can't let the wedding happen."
"It's risky," Stone said.
"Everything's risky," Quentin countered. "But at least this way, we control the when and where. We know she's coming. We just have to be ready."
Serenity reached back from the front seat, her hand finding mine. "You have the documents. Just like I saw. You survived. Just like I saw."
"What else did you see?" I asked desperately. "What happens next?"
Her eyes were distant. Troubled. "A wedding. Music. Dancing. But also—" She shook her head. "I can't see it clearly. There's too much interference. Too many possible futures."
"But we survive," Quentin pressed. "We make it through this."
"I saw flour," Serenity said softly. "And laughter. And love. But I don't know how you get from here to there. The path is... unclear."
"Then we make our own path," I said. "We take these documents to Carlo. We tell him what we found. And we offer him a solution—a wedding that draws out the killer."
"He might not go for it," Stone warned.
"He will," I said with more confidence than I felt. "Because Carlo wants answers just as badly as we do. And because—" I looked at the documents. "Because somewhere in these papers is the truth. We just need the killer to confirm it."
Quentin's hand tightened on mine.
The SUV raced through the city streets, carrying us toward—what?
A meeting with Carlo. A confrontation with my family. A wedding that might be the last thing we ever do.
But also toward justice. Truth. And maybe, if we were lucky and smart and survived—
Flour and laughter and love.
We just had to live long enough to get there.
∞∞∞
The SUV pulled up to Quentin's house. I could barely remember dropping off Margaret Chen and Isobel. One moment we'd been fleeing Il Giardino with sirens screaming behind us,the next we were here—suburban quiet, porch lights glowing warm against the darkness.
Safe.
Except I didn't feel safe. I felt like my skin was electrified, like any second someone would come around the corner with a gun.
"You're staying here tonight," Quentin said. Not a question.
I didn't argue.
Stone leaned forward from the front seat. "I'll have two men on the perimeter. No one's getting near this house."
"Thank you." Quentin's voice sounded rougher than usual.
"Get some sleep." Stone's gaze flicked between us. "Both of you. We'll regroup in the morning."
