Chapter Twenty-Five: Shadows in the Smoke
The Ricci backroom was not the only place where whispers festered.
Across the city, in a club thrumming with music and velvet shadows, another meeting was unfolding. Unlike Lorenzo's smoke-choked council, this one was quieter, more precise.
Vivienne Duval leaned against the polished bar, her crimson dress a flame against the dark. She swirled the glass in her hand, eyes fixed on the man seated opposite her—an informant whose loyalty had always belonged to the highest bidder.
"So it's true," she said, her voice silken, dangerous. "Dominic Wolfe has tied himself to the Moretti girl."
The man nodded nervously. "Word is, he nearly killed half a crew tonight defending her. People saw."
Vivienne's lips curved. Beautiful, calculated, cruel. "Good. The more reckless he looks, the easier it becomes to pull the city out from under him."
She rose gracefully, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she moved closer. She placed a manicured hand under the man's chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "But rumors are smoke, darling. I want fire. Proof. Bring me every detail of their movements. Where they eat. Where they sleep. Where they try to hide."
The man swallowed hard. "And if Wolfe finds out?"
Her smile was a blade. "Then I will no longer need your services."
Back at Lorenzo Ricci's estate, the old lion poured himself another drink. The council had scattered, each carrying orders and veiled threats. But Lorenzo lingered, staring into the amber glass as though it could reveal the city's future.
He knew Wolfe's kind. Men built on brutality and silence. Men who feared nothing—except weakness. And love was the most dangerous weakness of all.
When the knock came at the door, he did not need to look up. "Enter," he barked.
A boy—barely twenty—stepped inside, eyes darting, hands trembling. He dropped a folded letter on the desk. "From the docks. Urgent."
Lorenzo opened it, scanning the message. His smile grew thin and sharp.
"So," he murmured, almost to himself. "It begins."