Chapter 2 - The billionaire mafia boss poured a glass of bourbon, looked at her bleeding knuckles, and asked the one question she dreaded.
The silence that stretched between Luca Ravellini and me was thick with the scent of wet boxwood and the low, heavy static of the security cameras turning on their mounts. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't shout for his men or panic at the sight of the dark rust coating my sister’s uniform. He simply stood there, a towering silhouette against the warm amber light of his foyer, his dark eyes absorbing the split skin on my knuckles and the absolute terror radiating from Sofia’s small frame.
"Inside," Luca said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a terrifying gravity that cut straight through the roaring wind. He stepped back, opening the massive mahogany door just wide enough for us to slip through.
I grabbed Sofia’s wrist—her skin was ice-cold, her pulse hammering like a trapped sparrow—and pulled her across the threshold. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the sounds of the Boston night died completely, replaced by the heavy, muffled stillness of a fortress. The foyer was vast, lined with pale stone floors and minimalist artwork that cost more than my father had earned in his entire lifetime.
Luca locked the deadbolt with a slow, deliberate twist of his wrist. He didn't look at me yet. He looked at Sofia.
"She’s in shock," he murmured, his eyes tracking the way her knees trembled beneath her pleated skirt. "She needs to sit before she falls down."
"Luca, please," I gasped, my voice cracking as the adrenaline began to drain, leaving me hollow and raw. "I didn't know where else to go. They’re looking for her. They saw her face at Preston Academy. They have the green dragon—"
"Stop," Luca commanded. He didn't raise his voice, but the single word hung in the air like a blade. He turned his head toward the dark corridor leading to the back of the estate. "Marco."
A man appeared from the shadows so quickly it made me flinch. He was older, thick-necked, wearing a plain grey suit that did nothing to hide the heavy bulk of a shoulder holster beneath his left arm. He didn't look at us with curiosity; he looked at Luca, waiting for instructions.
"Take the girl to the garden room," Luca ordered. "Tell Maria to bring hot tea, sugar, and a clean set of clothes. No one touches her school uniform. Put it in a sealed bag and bring it to my study. And Marco—" Luca’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. "—kill the exterior lights. No cars enter or leave the gates until I say otherwise."
"Yes, Boss," Marco said. He stepped toward Sofia, his expression softening just a fraction. "Come with me, little miss. It’s warm in the back."
Sofia looked at me, her blue eyes wide with a silent, desperate question. She was fourteen, but right now, she looked eight. She was drowning in the adult world, and I was her only anchor.
"Go with him, Sofie," I whispered, squeezing her cold hand before letting it go. "I’ll be right here. I promise. I’m not leaving you."
She hesitated, then nodded once, her white socks leaving faint, grey smudges on Luca’s pristine stone floor as she followed Marco down the hall.
When they were gone, Luca turned his full attention to me. He walked past me toward a set of double glass doors that opened into a dark, leather-bound study. He didn't invite me in; he simply expected me to follow.
The study smelled of rich tobacco, old paper, and high-end bourbon—the exact same scent that clung to his jacket whenever he sat at my bar at The Vanguard. He walked over to a crystal decanter, poured two fingers of amber liquid into a heavy glass, and held it out to me.
"Drink it," he said.
I took the glass, my hands shaking so violently that the ice clinked against the crystal. I swallowed the liquor in one burning gulp, coughing as the heat bloomed in my chest. "She saw them kill someone, Luca. Behind the pharmacy near the academy. She said there were three of them. One of them had a green dragon tattoo on his neck."
Luca stopped in the act of pouring himself a drink. His shoulders went rigid beneath his white shirt. Slowly, he set the decanter down, his jaw clenching so hard a small muscle jumped beneath his ear.
"The green dragon," Luca repeated, his voice dropping into a register so low it felt like a vibration in the floorboards. "Are you certain?"
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"That’s what she told me," I said, stepping closer to his desk, my voice rising in panic. "She was hiding behind the dumpster. They looked right at her before she ran. Luca, who are they? Who has that tattoo?
Luca walked around the desk, stopping just inches from me. He was close enough that I could see the faint silver scars running along his collarbone where his shirt was unbuttoned. He looked down at me, his eyes entirely devoid of the polite charm he used at the club.
"That tattoo belongs to the Chen Syndicate from the North End," Luca said, his words precise and cold. "They’ve been trying to push their fentanyl supply into the private schools for six months. If they saw your sister’s face, they won't just look for her, Mia. They will hunt her until she is erased. Because the man they killed tonight wasn't a civilian. He was one of my captains."
