Outside, the air is cold. After the claustrophobic prison, the sky feels enormous.
I sit in my car and dab at the blood on my chin. Rafiel Lucania punched me in the face in a room full of guards, knowing what it would cost him. He threw away even the little freedom he has left, just to defend her honor.
All for a woman he’ll never have.
The most expensive punch he’s ever thrown, and he didn’t hesitate for a second.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Call me when you’ve met with Rafiel Lucania. Silas Cross.
I dial the number, and Silas answers right away.
“Don Cristiano. I promised Rafiel I’d follow up with you after your meeting to see how you’d like to proceed with the Sokoli threat.” His tone is polite and businesslike, as though he’s determined to put any bad blood behind us.
“You tell me. Rafiel threw a punch at me and got dragged to solitary.”
Silence. Then, “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” The professionalism drops away, replaced by raw frustration. “That stupid, hotheaded—” He lets loose a string of expletives. “One meeting. He needed to have one fucking meeting and keep his shit together.”
I check my face in the rearview mirror, watching my split lip swell. “He didn’t keep it together.”
“What the hell did you two even talk about?”
“Not the Sokolis, I can tell you that much.”
“Unbelievable. Lucania territory is going to fall apart, Dashamir Dervishi took our fucking guns, and I’m going to wind up riddled with Sokoli bullets.”
My mouth quirks in amusement. The Dervishi psychopath stole their weapons? The Lucanias are having a run of bad luck.
“Sounds like you have a problem,” I say mildly. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Listen, Don Cristiano.” Mr. Cross’s voice hardens. “Forget Rafiel Lucania. I’m offering you a chance to protect your own interests before it’s too late.”
“My interests seem fine from where I’m sitting.”
“For now.” Silas’s tone sharpens. “How long do you think you can hold out once we fall? A month? Two? The Sokolis will slaughter every Lucania capo and bookie, and then they’ll keep pushing north. Every casino you own that borders our territory becomes a target the moment we go down.”
I pull out of the parking lot, the prison shrinking in my rearview mirror. “Tell me one thing, Mr. Cross. You’re not a Lucania. Are you one of their capos?”
“I am not,” he replies curtly.
“Then why—”
“I owe Gabriel Lucania a great deal. I’m not from Malus. I can’t go home. Malus is my home.”
I let the silence stretch, wondering if Mr. Cross is going to expand on this.
“That’s all you need to know. Are you going to help me or not?” His patience is wearing thin now. “Because I don’t have time for games, Don Cristiano. Every day we waste talking is another day the Sokolis grow bolder.”
I merge onto the highway, considering. He’s right, of course. If Lucania territory collapses, the Sokolis will be two blocks from my casinos.
More importantly, though I’d never say it out loud, Mina’s apartment is in that direction. If the Sokolis keep pushing north, eventually they’ll be on her street. Near her son. Near everything I actually give a damn about protecting.
I could force her to come home with me for her own protection, but forcing Mina to do anything destroys her. She went limp in my arms after I let her out of my wardrobe, crying silently like I’d broken her heart. I grip the steering wheeltighter. As she sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car after I tied her up with my belt, she stared at me with those hollow, devastated eyes, like I’d all but killed her.