LOGINMaria The table had been cleared, but no one moved.They lingered—men who commanded empires, reduced to silence by uncertainty. By a girl. By what had been done to her… and what had been done *because* of her.I let my gaze move over each of them. Adriano—restless, unraveling, guilt etched into every line of his face. Luca—watchful, thinking, trying to piece together what didn’t quite fit. Liam—quiet, contained, but I could see the storm beneath. He carried too much for someone so young.Luigi and Stefano—burdened. Not just by the situation, but by what it meant for the family… for everything we stood for.They were all waiting. Not for answers. For direction. Adriano was the one who broke the silence. “Zia…” he said, voice rough. “I think you should call Denton.”I saw Luigi shift beside me immediately, ready to object. I placed my hand gently over his. “Let him speak, Luigi.”Adriano continued, more certain now. “He quit, Zia. I don’t think he’ll take a call from any of us… but you
AdrianoBreakfast should’ve felt normal. It didn’t.Not with everything sitting between us—unspoken, unresolved, and urgent. I filled them in quickly. The government contact. The shutdown. The call with Mason. The fact that whatever we were dealing with had reach—real reach.That alone darkened the mood at the table. Then my phone rang. Every head turned. I glanced at the screen. “Mason.”Silence fell instantly. I answered and put it on speaker. “Morning, Mace…”“When we spoke last night,” he started, voice tight but charged, “we said maybe we’ve been looking at this wrong.I leaned forward slightly.“We were chasing the kidnapper,” he continued, “but he’s got enough clout to stay hidden. What we *do* know is the blood got handed off to the ambulance. And that ambulance tracked to the truck stop.”My pulse picked up. “So that’s where I focussed.”There was something in his voice. Energy. Excitement. “Spit it out, Mace,” I cut in. “You’re killing us here.”A breath. Then—“I’ve got it.
AdrianoIt was close to 10:30 p.m. when we finally called it.The kind of exhaustion that settles deep into your bones had claimed all of us—but no one wanted to be the first to say it. Not when we were finally getting somewhere.Dad and I walked toward our wing in silence, the weight of the day hanging between us. Behind us, Luca and Liam were slower, their voices carrying up the staircase.“…I’m telling you, she practically tripped over herself—” Luca was saying.“Please,” Liam cut in dryly, “pity we share a birthmark but not all this prettiness.”Luca barked out a laugh and shoulder-checked him. “Fuck off.”They kept going, trading jabs, easy… familiar. Laughing. Something twisted in my chest. I missed that. Missed *him*.And the worst part? The distance between us didn’t feel temporary anymore. It felt like something I had caused. Something I might not be able to fix.I dragged my gaze away and checked my phone. A message from Rigsby. Finally.“Night, Dad,” I muttered.“Goodnight,
LucaWe all just… sat there.No one rushing to speak. No one scrambling to argue. Just absorbing the truth my mother had laid out so cleanly it left nowhere to hide.Denton. Everything pointed to him. And somehow… it didn’t feel wrong.Ma excused herself quietly, like she hadn’t just upended the entire direction of the hunt, and headed toward the kitchen to put together a tray for herself and Adriano—they’d both missed dinner. Dad gathered the empty mugs without a word and followed her.For a moment, it was just us. Me. Adriano. Liam. Zio. And the weight of what came next.Then Liam’s phone rang. He didn’t hesitate. “Jerry… give me something.”He hit speaker. A crackle… then—“Yeah… the video clip you sent—I’ve got some findings you can work with.”Every spine in the room straightened.“First—this unknown guy is big. Tall and built. Approximately six-two, maybe six-three. Weight around two-eighty.” A pause. “Shoe size twelve or thirteen. Estimated from the shadow he cast—used Adriano f
Liam Maria didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.The room bent toward her anyway. “I believe Denton has Arianna.”The words landed like a detonation—sharp, disorienting, impossible to ignore. A collective intake of breath swept through the room, chairs shifting, tension snapping tight like a wire about to give.Voices started rising immediately—“No—”“That doesn’t make—”“Why the hell would he—”Maria lifted her hand. That was all it took. Silence. Not forced. Not reluctant. Absolute. “Just hear me out,” she said, calm but unyielding. “Then we can debate whatever you think contradicts it.”And just like that… we listened.I leaned back slightly, arms folded, watching her—not just hearing the words, but studying the way she built them. Piece by piece. Brick by brick.“First,” she began, “he knew the location of that safehouse.” A nod here. A tightening jaw there.“Second—we have all agreed that the man who took her knew her… or cared about her." My chest tightened at that. Becau
Maria The ride back felt shorter.Not because the distance had changed… but because something had. There was movement now. Direction. A thread we were finally starting to follow.At one point, I reached over and switched the music again. This time—**Lionel Richie**.Adriano groaned immediately. “Zia… do you know any artists after 2015?”I laughed. Actually laughed. “Good music doesn’t expire,” I told him lightly.But the laughter faded as quickly as it came. Reality always found its way back in. He told me about the conversation he overheard at the front desk. The break-in. The connections forming.And then I told him about Remi. About the bruising. The placement. The timing. “Adriano…” I said quietly, watching the road ahead. “A connection like that… it’s rare.”I paused, letting the memory settle. “Years ago, the night Stefano - your dad was shot… in Chicago mind you - Luigi and I were at a restaurant. We left early because he suddenly clutched his chest, said he felt pain—exactly
ADRIANOI looked through the glass front of the McDonalds at the street urchin whose cart I was currently guarding like a museum treasure. Her back was to me but now I had the chance to properly check her out. A dull grey threadbare cardigan hung over a bulky cable knit sweater and faded jeans.
AdrianoI was busy giving Emmet a rundown of the meeting and going over the days itinery when I felt someone touch me and a tingle ran up my arm. I turned in shock and saw a small young girl looking anxiously up at me. My hand shot out in reflex and covered her much smaller one. More tingles.
LIANAThe cart rattled when one of its wheels hit a crack in the sidewalk, and I winced even though nothing inside broke. Old habit. Everything of value we owned fit into that cart—sheet music wrapped in plastic, Remi’s spare sweater, his violin case strapped tight with bungee cords like a promis
Adriano They say power tasted best before noon, hence the brunch meeting. But I was my father’s son – I exuded and devoured power all day, everyday.The Venetian’s private dining room smelled like espresso, truffle oil, and money—old money, new money, the kind that bled if you cut it. Floor-to-







