Across from me, Enzo closes the folder and taps it once against the table. “So, Victor Malin’s first. Fair enough.” He dips his chin slowly. “Let’s talk about how we make him disappear.”
And just like that, a precarious union is formed. It still feels too easy, but I’m under no false assumptions it will be.
We spend the next hour detailing plans, threading logistics, and outlining blind spots. Enzo offers backchannel access to key members of Malin’s inner circle. Hudson volunteers Bureau intel he can get through unofficial back doors. Jules, ever the quiet operator, points out a surveillance vulnerability on Victor’s estate, sharing some of the challenges we’ve had so far.
When it comes to the digital front, Eva and Luna are already speaking in shorthand, bouncing ideas off each other like they’ve worked together for years. Watching them click into sync is almost scary. Eva is all sass and sarcasm mixed with impressive genius. And I’m sure Eva’s movie star looks aren’t going unnoticed by my sister. I can tell Luna is impressed. Eva is a tiny, female version of Enzo. The genetics in that family are extremely generous.
I sit back, watching the room with curiosity. This isn’t trust. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good having smart, talented people to bounce ideas off. There is this little bubble in my chest, something like…excitement? Hope? A light at the end of the tunnel?
I pride myself on trusting my instincts and right now, this feels good.
I’ll try not to get my hopes up, though. If there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that most people are wildly disappointing.
Including us. Because if anyone ever knew the DNA running through our veins, they’d run the other way.
An hour later, Enzo and Eva guide us to the dining room for lunch. A sunbeam slices through the antique windows of the Luciano mansion’s very large dining room. It lands like a spotlight on a table full of criminals and vigilantes, pretending we’re something closer to a brunch club. It’s a surreal kind of sacred.
Luna and Eva sit together, chatting. Without encrypted language or shadowy threads, the conversation doesn’t seem to flow as easily.
Luna is normally nonstop, a bubbly chatter box in mostsituations, but this time, she’s composed. Watchful. Not uneasy but guarded.
Eva is a few years younger than Luna, in her mid-twenties, but she has the kind of confidence oneshouldhave when growing up mafia royalty. She has an ease and grace to her that I believe my sister would find captivating. I’ll have to ask her about it later.
In the corner of the room, Jules is mid-conversation with Enzo and Niko, explaining something I don’t need to hear to understand. Her gestures are precise, competent, grounded. The men listen more than they speak. They’re asking intentional questions, taking her in.
Jules has always been like this—the quiet authority in the room. I’m glad they see it, too.
Hudson returns from the kitchen and sits beside me like it’s always been his place.
“Different kind of meeting than you and I are used to,” he says with a wink.
“Jane and John had more fun,” I tease.
“Maybe, but at least now we are done pretending.”
I glance at him. “Are we?”
“I am. You’re harder to read now, but far more interesting.”
“I was never easy to read.”
“Definitely not at cards, but in the bedroom?”
My cheeks warm. “Sad those days are over?”
“Are they?” His puppy dog eyes contain a hint of pleading that somehow isn’t pathetic, but rather endearing.
“Obviously.”
“Agree to disagree.”
I laugh before I can stop myself and Hudson cracks a wide smile.
Enzo approaches the table and takes the seat across from us.
“Gotta say,” Hudson starts with a smirk, turning toward Enzo, “Pippa suits you much better than Jane.”
I arch my brow. “Please. I much prefer John to Hudson.”
