FAZER LOGINI wake from my slumber with a headache and stomach rumbling. I must have fallen asleep through my tears.
I haven’t eaten since I got here, and all the crying has depleted the little energy I had. Damien's not worth my tears; in fact, the entire family is not.
It’s been two days, and nobody has reached out.
The rejection is obvious, and though it hurts, I have to act like it doesn’t. Finding solace under this roof isn’t an option either.
I’m just a pawn in someone’s game.
I step out into the hallway, finding it empty and silent. The air feels still, and there’s an unsettling echo every time I take a step. Kane must have left.
Unsure how to find the kitchen, I decide to walk in the direction of the Mafia’s office. The huge oak door stands closed, making it impossible to tell whether anyone is inside.
I bypass the office and walk to the end of the hallway. Light streaks from a room. I carefully nudge the door handle and peek inside, relieved to discover the kitchen.
The place looks like it doesn’t get used often. Everything is cleaned spick and span.
There’s nothing to eat in here. It’s just bottled water and fruits. Who lives like this? I shut the fridge.
“Me,” Standing at the door with an annoyed expression, is the last person I want to see right now.
Wait, did I say that out loud? And when did he get here?
“How long have you been here?” I question.
He stares long and hard, scrutinizing me. Anger flickers across his face. I stare right back at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. He takes slow steps towards me.
“Do you go around touching things without permission?” Completely ignoring my question, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I’m thirsty,” I lie.
My stomach rumbles loudly. Great, I might as well ask for food.
He quirks his eyebrow.
“I’m famished, and there’s nothing to eat.”
“Suit yourself.” He turns to leave.
“Fruits? They can’t satiate the hunger I am feeling right now.”
“When you are offered food next time, you eat it,” he turns to leave again.
“Where’s Kane? I didn’t see him outside my door. Is he tired of me already? I understand.” I fake a smile. Kane will definitely give me other options aside from fruits.
“He’s busy. Your room was unguarded?” his jaw clenches.
“Is there supposed to be anyone else aside from Kane?” He looks at me like I just grew an extra head and leaves.
Rude.
I have no choice but to eat fruits. Luckily, there’s milk, so I prepare a fruit bowl and sit to eat.
I don’t remember the last time I had a fruit bowl. Don’t get me wrong, fruits are healthy, but there are sumptuous and nourishing meals. Fruits are snacks. My opinion, though.
Right now, I need to figure out how to get out of here, what to do with my life next, and stay far away from my family.
I wash my bowl, place it on the counter, and head back to my room. Voices from the Don’s office make me stop in my tracks.
“Lucien.” I recognize Kane’s voice. I move closer to the door, trying to listen, but the room falls silent.
The door suddenly opens, and I stumble forward, cheeks burning with embarrassment. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; curiosity simply gets the best of me.
“Sorry…I am so sorry,” I rush the words out when my eyes fall on Kane sitting on the couch.
Then the Don, who stands in the middle of the office.
Then a guy on his knees propped down beside the Don.
Wait…is that blood?
Blood oozes from the guy’s nose and mouth. He doesn’t look so hurt, and he doesn’t look good either.
“Zoe…where are your manners?” The Don raises his left eyebrow and runs his hand through his hair.
My gaze drops.
“Answer me!”
“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to. I’m not supposed to be here. I’ll leave.” My lips quiver.
I rush to the door, but his words stop me in my tracks. “And where do you think you’re going to?”
“My, my…room.”
“Sit. Pray your curiosity was worth it.”
“Luci—” Kane tries to speak.
He is Lucien.
“Sit. I won’t repeat myself.”
He turns and hits the guy on his mouth.
Grunts echo in the room. I drag my legs to the couch and sit, my breath shallow.
He keeps punching his mouth, and Kane sits there, unfazed.
Lucien’s fingers are adorned with thorn rings, so every hit at the same spot takes a piece of flesh with it…it catches, pulls, and tears.
I taste bile, but I swallow it down.
“How dare you?!” He holds the guy by his hair and yanks him into the wall.
My stomach squirms.
The guy tries to crawl to the door, but Lucien walks to his desk. He pulls out a gun from his drawer, and my stomach drops.
He pulls the trigger and shoots the guy in his thigh.
A scream pierces the night.
Lucien walks up to the guy and pulls him by the hair to the center of the room. Blood pools behind them. There is so much red everywhere.
He sits on the couch opposite me, while the guy kneels trembling before him.
He stares at me. Minutes pass by.
He grabs the guy's jaw and questions him.
“Who do you report to?”
“Y—you,” the guy struggles to answer while blood pools out of his mouth.
“Open your bloody mouth and speak!” Lucien smacks him.
I can’t breathe. This is too much.
This doesn’t happen in meetings. Father never…we never had to see this part. I heard stories, but I never…
A shrill scream brings me back to the present moment. Lucien jabs a knife into the guy’s palm.
He pulls it out and attempts to cut a finger while looking at me.
Feels like a silent warning. I feel nauseous. He relaxes into the chair, completely unfazed.
The man turns around and starts crawling toward me. "Please...h…help me," he says, reaching his hand out as he approaches.
A gun goes off when he gets close to me.
His head falls on my lap.
A bullet through his head.
Cold blood oozes from his head onto me.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
Blood pools at my feet.
I’m immobilized.
My brain freezes, and darkness welcomes me, and for the first time...I don’t fight it.
The floor is quiet by eight.Lucien left an hour ago, Kane said he had an external meeting and that he would be back at the house by ten. I'm still at my desk, working through a supplier reconciliation that should have taken forty minutes but has taken two hours because my mind keeps sliding.Webb. Damien’s family. Lucien’s revenge.I open the document, close it, and reopen it, then give up entirely. I shut everything down and leave for the house.…I enter the kitchen to make tea because I’ve had a lot of coffee for the day, and see Kane in the kitchen already, jacket off, sitting at the small table near the window with a bowl of something Ida might have made. He looks up when I enter and offers me a small smile that’s barely there.I fill the kettle, without saying anything, not wanting to ruin his peace."Ida left food," he says. "There's more in the pot.""I'm not hungry.""Eat anyway."I almost turn to argue, but I don’t have the energy for that right now, so I get a bowl, dish
I'm at my desk by five forty.Sleep has always been a great hassle, so I take what I get.She arrives at eight, and I hear her before I see her; the echo of her heels against the marble floors. I'm at my desk, files open, when she enters with my coffee, placing it on my desk without sparing me a glance, then goes back to her desk without saying anything. At around nine, Kane comes in with the intelligence report, finally."Castello," I say."Two things," he confirms, then puts the report on the desk and sits. "He's been in contact with someone in your investor network. Preliminary, we're still running the trace, but it looks like he's been building a relationship with one of the secondary Whitmore Group contacts for the last three weeks."I look at him. "He's embedding himself in the business network.""Looks that way. Not aggressively, he’s doing it carefully so that he doesn’t get noticed." Kane holds my gaze. "He's not trying to come at you directly anymore. He's building adjace
Lucien has a black dress picked out for me.He always chooses black; whether it is his preference or he wants me to blend into the shadows, I can never tell. But this one is different, the cut and the weight made it clear that he wanted me noticed tonight, or so I think. I look at myself in the mirror.The woman looking back looks confident, polished, and composed, the version of me that knows how to move through spaces built on money and power that I haven’t channeled in a while. She looks nothing like the woman striving for survival. I pick up my clutch and go downstairs.Lucien is already in the SUV—black tie, perfect suit, wearing the composure of a man who has been to a hundred events like this and doesn’t bother anymore. He glances at me briefly when I get in, then goes back to looking at his phone. "The Whitmore Group," he says, without looking up. "Three primary investors, two secondary. The dinner is to formalize a partnership that's been in negotiation for four months. Y
The word still sits heavy on my chest when I wake up. Placed.I lie in the dark of my room and reflect on almost all the milestones in my life and how they possibly mean nothing now because none of them was ever my actual choice. I get up.I make coffee in my room from the coffee machine that appeared one morning, which I've been using without asking where it came from, and I stand at the window with the mug in both hands and look out the window.I stare into the sky while sipping the coffee.Another day to survive whatever this is. I get ready and get to work. I make his coffee and set it on his desk. He arrives a few minutes later, before eight, and today, he slows down a little by my desk before entering his office. Even though he didn’t look in my direction or speak to me, that subtle, slow pace beside my desk is a first. A couple of minutes later, when the floor had settled into its working rhythm, and Lucien is on a call, Kane downstairs, I open my partition because this is t
I find out before Kane reports it to me. The driver's route log comes through on my secondary monitor at four seventeen pm — a deviation, twelve minutes, West Village. I pull the street map, and then I recognize it immediately because I know this city the way I know my own operations.West 19th.The hotel Damien Castello checked out of this morning.I sit at my desk and look at the route log for a long moment, then I close it.Kane comes in at four forty-five.He doesn't have the intelligence summary, wrong time of day for that, but he's here about the deviation specifically, which means he knows and has been sitting on it for twenty minutes.He sits across from me and slides a single photograph on the desk.I don't look at it immediately.I look at Kane, and his expression is careful and neutral. I've been reading Kane for fifteen years, and there are still moments when the careful neutral expression gives me less than I need. This is one of those moments.I look at the photograph.
Damien is waiting outside the dry cleaners on West 19th.I know it's him before I see his face. The shape of his shoulders, the way he stands with his weight slightly forward like a man perpetually ready to move, which I spent eight months interpreting as confidence, and now, it just looks like…restlessness. He's in a dark coat, hands in his pockets, watching the street with a careful expression plastered on his face.I shouldn't be here. I know that.I made an impromptu decision this morning when a fifteen-minute window opened up, and I told the driver I needed to stop for something quickly, and he pulled over two blocks from the address Damien left in his second message. The one he sent four days after the first, shorter, with a location and a time and nothing else. I get out of the car without second thoughts.He sees me when I'm ten feet away, and something moves across his face — relief first, then something more complicated than relief, then something more of apprehension of wh







