LOGINThere was a gun on the table this time, not a knife, and Blair's whole body went cold looking at it in a way four weeks of bruises never once had."No.""You haven't heard the lesson yet.""I don't need to hear it. I know what those do." Her voice had gone somewhere she didn't fully recognize, old and thin. In her first life, a gun had only ever meant one thing — the sound of one, once, through a wall, and a silence after that had never fully left her. "I'm not touching it."Nicoletta studied her for a long moment, none of her usual brisk impatience in it at all."Something happened to you. Long before this life, I think." Not a question. She set the gun down flat, unloaded, well out of reach. "You don't have to tell me what. But fear like that doesn't come from nowhere, and I won't pretend it does just to get through a lesson.""It doesn't matter where it came from.""It matters entirely. It's the difference between teaching you a tool and forcing you to relive something." Something
Lorenzo listened to the whole report without writing a single note, which Blair had learned by now meant he already believed every word of it."Drugs, moving alongside whatever else that warehouse handles." He said it flatly, already three steps past the observation itself. "Renato's diversified. That is not incidental — men who use on the job are men who will talk for a fix. It is a weakness in his own operation, if we're patient enough to find the right one.""Good work," Alessandro said, and meant it, something warm crossing his face before he had fully suppressed it in front of his uncle.Lorenzo caught the look anyway. Blair watched him catch it."A word, Alessandro. Alone."* * *She waited in the hall, close enough to hear more than either of them probably intended."She is useful. I'll grant you that," Lorenzo said, low. "But that is not the same as safe. Everyone in that room saw your face just now. If I noticed, others will.""Meaning what.""Meaning a don who is soft for on
Marco parked with the warehouse in view and the engine off, and didn't say a word for the first twenty minutes beyond confirming she had her seatbelt on."You do this often?" Blair asked eventually, mostly to fill the silence."Often enough not to need to talk through it." He didn't look away from the loading doors while he said it. "Watch the doors, not the men. Men move. Patterns don't."She watched. For a long while there was nothing to see — a single bulb over the entrance, a chained gate, the ordinary stillness of a building that wanted to look abandoned.Then a van pulled in, and three men unloaded crates fast enough that Blair's old instincts, the ones that had spent a lifetime reading bodies instead of faces, caught something before her conscious mind did."That one." She nodded toward the youngest of them, sweating despite the cool night, hands trembling around a crate he was gripping too hard. "He's not nervous. He's sick. Look at his pupils.""Sick how?""I used to see it c
There was a knife laid out on the garden table when Blair arrived for the sixth session, plain-handled and unremarkable, sitting next to two glasses of water like it belonged there as ordinarily as the pitcher."We're past hands now?""Hands buy you time. This buys you an ending." Nicoletta picked it up without any of the reverence Blair had half expected, turning it once in her palm, entirely matter-of-fact. "I'd rather you never need it. I'd rather you know how, regardless.""That's not ominous at all.""Good. Ominous gets people killed. Calm keeps them alive." She held it out, handle first. "Take it the way I'm holding it, not the way it looks in films. Thumb along the spine."Blair took it. It felt heavier than its size suggested, or maybe that was only the weight of understanding exactly what it was for.* * *She lost the disarm drill nine times out of ten for the first hour, Nicoletta plucking it out of her grip with a small twist that looked almost gentle and left Blair's wris
Three hits, the fourth session in.Blair counted them out loud this time, flat on her back in the grass with considerably less drama than the first day had warranted, and Nicoletta actually laughed — a short, surprised bark of a sound that seemed to catch her as much as it caught Blair."You're getting faster.""I'm getting better at falling. That's not the same thing.""It's the first half of the same thing." Nicoletta offered a hand up, and this time Blair barely needed it. "You stopped flinching before I move. That's the part that actually keeps you alive — not the hits you land, the ones you see coming in time to matter."It didn't feel like progress from the inside, mostly just a new, more specific catalogue of aches, but Blair had learned by now to trust Nicoletta's version of a compliment over her own assessment of the bruises.* * *Alessandro was waiting with ice and a look on his face that had nothing to do with her training at all."Lorenzo found something.""Good something
He couldn't stop counting it. Blair could see it happening even when he didn't say so out loud — some private arithmetic running behind his eyes every time the stalking came up, the same numbers over and over."Eleven minutes," he said finally, one evening at his kitchen counter, apropos of nothing she'd asked. "That's how long it took me to reach you after you called. Eleven minutes, and Andrew had already vanished into whatever hole Renato's money built for him before I'd even gotten the car started.""You got there.""After." He said the word like it tasted wrong in his mouth. "I keep doing the same math on the harbor. On the point. Every single time, I arrive after whatever was going to happen to you had already had time to happen, and the only reason you're still sitting here is that I've gotten lucky more times than any man deserves to.""So what's the alternative? You can't be standing next to me every hour of every day.""No." Something had settled in his face, decided already







