Masuk-Mina-Morning arrived relentlessly, fulfilling its duty without hesitation. The house was already stirring when I entered the hall, radios softly buzzing, boots clicking on the floor, hushed voices exchanging updates. Max paced once at the doorway before falling into step behind me, as if he had taken on the role of my protector for the hour. That was the only reassurance I found.The kitchen reeked of intentionally burnt coffee. Tony was leaning over the counter, multitasking with his phone and a handwritten list, as if either could be deceptive. He looked up when he noticed me and skipped any small talk.“Luca’s in the main room,” he said. “It’s moving fast today.”“When is it not?” I asked.Tony’s mouth twitched as if he were about to make a joke but changed his mind. “Today’s different,” he said. “Today’s personal.”The main room was full when I entered, with Capos, soldiers, and cartel sicarios on opposite sides, disciplined and tense. Rafael stood straight and quiet, hinting at
-Mina-We could’ve gone back to our own places. No one said it out loud, but the option sat there like an unclaimed exit. Frankie had his house. I had what used to be mine. Luca could’ve locked himself in his office, and nobody would’ve questioned it.Instead, we stayed.The house didn’t change because of the choice. It didn’t soften or tense. It simply absorbed us as it always had, stone walls holding their breath, floors remembering weight. That felt worse than the distance would have.Max was the first to notice.He padded in from the hallway while I was sitting on the couch, his presence silent until it wasn’t. Big frame, thick coat, eyes too intelligent to be called animal without a little lying. He stopped in front of me and stared as if deciding something.“You’re judging me,” I said quietly.He huffed once and sat, heavy and deliberate, close enough that his warmth pressed against my leg. Luca’s wolf offered comfort only when he meant it. That alone tightened something in my c
-Mina- It took about an hour to get comfortable and fall asleep, and I only slept for all of two hours. The dreams didn’t let up tonight, the pain crossing into reality when I woke up. I tossed the blanket off me and swung my legs over the bed, realizing there was nowhere to go; I was safe this time. It didn’t take long for that to register. I was sitting on the edge of Luca’s bed when he came in, my feet barely touching the floor, the city humming through the open window. The sheets were rumpled beneath my hands, warm from my body like they were waiting for something other than rest. I didn’t turn right away because I didn’t need to. I felt him before I saw him.He closed the door quietly behind him, the sound final in a way that made my chest tighten. When he said my name, it wasn’t the Don’s voice. It was low, unguarded, careful.“You should be sleeping,” he said.“I tried,” I replied. “My body didn’t agree.”I turned then. He stood there without his jacket, shirt slightly undone
-Mina-I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Not Luca. Not Frankie. Not Tony. I let the lie sit by omission, heavy and deliberate. Sometimes silence is the only way to move without being stopped.Rafael didn’t ask questions when I told him to come with me. He never did. He checked his weapon, adjusted his jacket, and nodded once. Cartel loyalty wasn’t loud. It was precise.We took a car that didn’t belong to the family. No Gambino plates. No recognizable routes. I made Rafael take three turns. We didn’t need to; I just wanted to make sure we weren’t followed. Paranoia was a habit now, not a reaction.The city looked different when I wasn’t moving through it under Gambino protection. Every corner felt sharper. Every stoplight felt like a mistake. I watched storefronts blur past and wondered how many people had no idea how close they lived to men who decided whether they breathed tomorrow.Alaric chose a location that felt intentional. A half-abandoned commercial space near the river,
-Mina-Frankie found me in the break room off the operations floor, as if he’d been circling the place until he worked up the nerve. The air smelled like burnt coffee and gun oil, which felt fitting. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes tired yet alert. When he saw me, something eased in his face, and he didn’t bother hiding it.“You okay?” he asked. “I’m breathing,” I replied sarcastically. “That’s where I’m setting the bar today.” I slid a stale granola bar across the table toward him. He snorted and ignored it.“Fair,” he smiled slightly. We let the silence sit. Radios crackled down the hall, boots passed, metal shifted. War wasn’t approaching. It was already inside the building, living in the walls.“You’ve been avoiding me,” I finally spoke again.He gave a short laugh. “You’ve met my brother.” He stepped inside and shut the door. The click sounded final, like we were sealing something in. “I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”“You’re saying something now,” I re
-Mina-Weeks passed before the city finally stopped holding its breath. The noise never completely disappeared, but it eased into something darker and quieter. The kind of calm that only happens when everyone knows blood is about to spill. I learned how to read that silence quickly.We met in a warehouse that officially belonged to no one. It sat between Gambino territory and what used to be Moretti land, neutral in the way only temporary alliances are. Concrete floors, steel tables, armed men lining the walls like furniture. This was not a peace meeting; it was a planning room for murder.Luciano stood at the head of the table, calm and precise. He wore black, as he always did when working, no jacket, and his sleeves rolled up just enough to remind everyone who he was. The Don never raised his voice.Frankie sat to his right, with perfect posture and a composed expression. He issued orders when asked and kept his eyes on the maps. In public, he was reliable. In private, he still avoi







