Page 47

Then I run. Out of the house. Onto the street. I run until my lungs are full of knives and my shirt is black with sweat and the city blurs into a single long smear of shame I will not accept.

When I finally stop, doubled over, spit hanging from my mouth, I swear it…

“One day I will prove my father wasn’t a rat,” I hiss, my heart thumping in my chest. “And until then, I will do whatever it takes to make this family’s name great again.”

And then, in a moment of wild rage, I turn and pump my fist through the closest car window and watch as my hand turns to bloody crimson before my very eyes.

PRESENT DAY…

A horn somewhere. A bus. The present slaps me back into reality.

I check my watch…

Over an hour. Too long for a job enquiry. Too long for a boy who was told not to get caught.

Worry is not a thing I enjoy. And somehow it feels worse that Elias is the focus of my anguish.

But the worry arrives anyway. Cold. Precise…

If they have him, this street becomes a war in daylight.

If they have him, I is because I sent him.

I am reaching for the ignition when the glass doors open.

Fuck. It’s him. Thank God.

Elias. Not dragged. Not pale. He strides out like the hotel was a chore he finished early.

He walks down the road. Does not look at the bike. Then a small nod. He wants me to follow.

Smart boy.

I fire the Kawasaki and roll after him, helmet still on, just another engine in the noise. He turns the corner. Stops. Smiles.

I pull up.

Elias hops on behind me without being told, arms around my waist, mouth near the edge of my helmet.

“Drive,” he says. “Drive fast. Even faster this time.”

I do. The city opens its throat. If he planted the device, if he walked out clean, if the hour was work and not a cage, then the boy has earned more than another trial in a basement.

This time, he may have earned a reward.

I take the next light like it is mine. His body fits to my back again. This time I do not wonder if the speed is going to make him cum.

I wonder what he found, what intel he gathered, and how much closer he put me to silencing Tito Lucci forever.

And finally, I wonder precisely how hard and how many times I will make Elias tremble and moan in return for a job well done…

Before I know it, the ramp swallows us.

Concrete. Echo. The private lot as quiet as the money it took to own this place.

I kill the Kawasaki and drop the stand. Elias pulls his helmet off, brushes his hair back with his hand.

“Talk,” I say, sensing that it’s going to be good news but wanting to hear it first.