Report."
Luna Vale didn't bother looking up from her espresso as her assistant, Matteo, shuffled beside her table at the private café balcony overlooking Chicago's sunrise. She wore her black silk robe like a queen's mantle, hair loosely pinned up, shadows of sleepless strategy meetings under her dark eyes.
Matteo cleared his throat, flicking open his leather notebook dramatically.
"Subject One: Silvio Mysterio. Age thirty-eight. Owns La Mano Nera, an Italian restaurant chain. Officially unmarried. , threatened a chef with a meat cleaver for oversalting risotto, cries at old dog movies but denies it."
"Wait." Luna raised a brow, finally glancing up. "Dog movies?"
"Yes, boss. Apparently Marley and Me is banned in his household."
She smirked faintly. "Continue."
"Subject Two: Luca Mysterio. Age thirty-four. Official front as an art dealer specialising in rare paintings, unofficially handles money laundering operations. Known to wear three-piece suits even at 2 a.m. when no one's watching. Nicknames among underlings include 'The Reaper', 'CEO of Resting Murder Face', and 'Sir, please blink at least once today.'"
Luna snorted softly into her espresso cup. "Dramatic."
"Subject Three: Rey Mysterio. Age twenty-six. Youngest. Professional painter. Officially uninvolved in mafia operations. Recent diagnosis: chronic illness. Favourite café order: black coffee with two sugars. Rumours say he talks to his cat and has threatened to fistfight pigeons near his studio window."
Luna paused, her dark lashes fluttering as she re-read that line in her mind. "Pigeons?"
"Yes, boss. Witnesses say his exact words were: 'Come at me again and I'll oil paint your feathers off.'"
A small, amused smile curled on her lips.
"Physical summary?" she asked lazily, though Matteo knew she already had every photo of Rey saved in her private folders.
"Tall, lean build. Wavy dark brown hair. Pale skin tone. High cheekbones, strong jawline, usually stubbled. Eyes: dark brown, described as 'brooding artist eyes' by approximately eighty-seven Instagram users."
Luna tilted her head slightly, a calculating warmth blooming in her chest. "And personality?"
Matteo hesitated, reading his scrawl. "Reports vary between moody, quiet, introverted with an unprocessed death wish, and will pet any cat within a five-mile radius."
She chuckled softly, sipping the last of her espresso as sunlight glinted across her eyes like polished obsidian.
"And his current mental state?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with steel.
"Fading, boss. He's… existing, not living."
She closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against the cup.
"Prepare the next phase."
"Next phase?"
She opened her eyes and smiled. It was beautiful. Terrifyingly so.
"He will live for me."
Matteo swallowed. "Yes, boss."
She rose gracefully, black robe sweeping the floor as she moved inside, mind already spinning with possibilities. The Mysterios were powerful. But Rey… he was art. And Luna Vale always got her hands on art she couldn't live without.