Bastardi nodded slowly. "The virgin," he said flatly. "Where is she?"
He licked his lips, eyes darting toward the door, toward the street where his dog’s barking had faded into nothing. "I don’t know," he said hoarsely. "I swear."
"Think carefully. Because if you lie to , Vito, this ends badly for everyone you love."
"She’s with Luciano Genovese. Both of them are," Vito said at last. His shoulders slumped. Years ago, he had been broader, louder, a man who still believed he had a say in how his life unfolded. Now he looked small on the couch, sweat beading along his hairline, hands clenched together.
Bastardi’s smile vanished.
"No," he said. "Luciano traded the virgin with . Except she escaped. And now my client wants his money back. I don’t do returns." He tilted his head. "The girl?"
One of Bastardi’s n raised his gun smoothly, the tal pressing against Vito’s temple. Vito let out a broken sound that might have been a sob.
"I don’t know," he babbled. "I don’t know! I swear it. My other daughter called this morning. She said she was safe. That’s all she said. Nothing else."
Bastardi’s eyes sharpened. "So your daughter knows where the virgin is."
Vito swallowed hard. "I... I guess so."
"And where is this other daughter?" Bastardi asked.
"She’s also with Luciano."
That finally drew a reaction. "Why is she with him?"
"Because he bought her at your goddamned auction!" he shouted.
Bastardi’s brain finally caught up, the pieces sliding together with a slow, ugly click. The auction night surfaced in his mory. The confusion. Luca’s rage when he realized they had taken the wrong sister. Bastardi’s jaw tightened, his lips curling back from his teeth.
"That son of a bitch double-crossed ," he spat.
Vito seized the opening, desperate. "Please," he begged. "I have nothing to do with it. I swear. I didn’t plan any of this."
"Oh, you have plenty to do with it," Bastardi said.
He straightened. "Call your daughter. The one who called you this morning. Tell her to co here. Tell her it’s an ergency."
Vito stared at him, horror flooding his face. "I can’t—"
The gun pressed harder into his temple.
"You can," Bastardi said softly. "And you will."
Hands shaking violently, Vito scrambled for his phone. His fingers fumbled, missing the screen twice before he finally unlocked it. Bastardi took a seat across from him, relaxed now, one ankle resting over his knee.
As Vito dialed, Bastardi turned his head toward his n. "Move the cars away from the street," he said casually. "We are going to have so fun today, boys."
*****
When Luca had offered to go shopping with Veronica, he had imagined sothing quick and transactional. Pick a few dresses. Swipe a card. Leave. Instead, he found himself slouched in a chair, planted in the middle of a high-end boutique. He had been there for hours. Literal hours. Watching Vee disappear into the changing room and reappear again and again, a revolving door of fabric, color, and attitude.
At so point, ti had stopped aning anything.
Luca’s patience had thinned to a fragile thread. He nodded automatically now, like a dashboard ornant with a pulse. Yes. Beautiful. Perfect. Take it. Burn it. Whatever got them out of here faster. If buying the entire store would collapse the space-ti continuum and release him from this upholstered purgatory, he would have done it without blinking.
His long legs were stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other, expensive loafers tapping lazily against marble floors. His jacket lay discarded beside him, dark hair pushed back, eyes half-lidded. A man feared across boroughs, bored to death by chiffon.
He was already drifting, head tilting back slightly, when a hand landed on his shoulder and shook him.
"Luca?" Vee called.
He blinked. Once. Twice. His eyes struggled to focus, pupils adjusting. "Yeah," he murmured automatically, gaze sweeping over her without registering anything. "It’s gorgeous."
Vee burst out laughing. "This is what I wore from ho, silly." She gestured down at herself, amused. "But we do have to go."
"My dad needs ," she added, quieter now. "Says he fell."
Luca straightened imdiately, boredom evaporating.
"Okay," he said, already standing.
Anything was better than this place. Even seeing Vito Scalese’s stupid, sweating face again was preferable to another hour of nodding at mirrors.
Luca shrugged back into his jacket, rolling his shoulders. He watched Vee hurry over to the attendant. The saleswoman smiled brightly, professional to her bones, promising everything would be delivered to the Genovese mansion by evening.
Luca led her out to the car, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. He drove them to Vee’s house. Luca parked the car.
"I’ll wait for you," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Go help your dad."
She turned to him. "You’re not coming in?"
He shook his head once. "This is family. I’ll be right here."
"Thank you," she said softly and hurried out of the car.
Luca stepped out onto the sidewalk. He watched her cross the yard, watched the way she slowed when she saw the little dog, crouching to pet it, murmuring sothing gentle. The animal leaned into her, tail flicking uncertainly. She gave it one last pat and went inside.
He exhaled slowly and looked down at the dog.
He had always had a thing for animals. People complicated everything. Animals did not. Their lives were simple, honest. Food. Water. Shelter. Sotis a little love. No lies. No betrayals. Freedom lived in their eyes, even when they were chained.
He crouched and extended a hand. "Hey," he said quietly. "I never got your na last ti we t."
The dog did not bark. It did not wag its tail. It leaned back slightly, body low, ears pinned. Luca frowned. He bent lower and patted the dog gently, fingers brushing through coarse fur. The animal trembled under his touch.
This was not excitent.
This was fear.
Luca straightened slowly, every nerve lighting up. He scanned the house. Curtains drawn. He turned his head and looked down the street. A couple of parked cars. No neighbors outside. No kids. No noise. Normal, if you ignored the way his gut twisted.
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