LEX'S POV
The "main event" arrived in a cloud of cigar smoke and cheap cologne. Marco's private club was nothing like Vito's quiet penthouse. It was loud, dark, and sticky underfoot.
Marco himself was a bull of a man, with a thick neck and a smile that showed too many gold teeth. His eyes lit up when he saw Vito. But when he saw Lex trailing behind him, his gaze turned curious, then sharp.
"Vito! You brought a date to business?" Marco laughed, slapping the table. "Times are changing!"
"This is Alessia," Vito said smoothly, taking a seat without waiting for an invitation. Lex stood slightly behind him, like she was just an accessory. "She's learning the business."
"Pretty thing to be learning such ugly business," Marco said, his eyes running over Lex like she was a piece of meat. She kept her face blank, her hands loose at her sides. Inside, she was screaming. This was the man who killed her brother.
The meeting started. Talk of money, of shipments, of territory. It was all code, but the tension was real. Marco kept trying to push Vito to get a better deal. Vito stayed calm, ice to Marco's fire.
Lex watched it all, but she also watched the room. Two of Marco's men stood by the door. Another leaned against the bar. They were all armed. She could see the lumps under their jackets.
Marco poured himself another drink. "You've gotten soft, Vito. All these new rules. This 'clean' business. The old ways made us rich."
"The old ways make us dead," Vito replied quietly. "Or in prison."
Marco snorted. Then, his eyes slid back to Lex. "She doesn't say much. Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"
Lex met his gaze. "I'm just listening."
"You look familiar," Marco said, squinting. "Do I know you?"
Before Vito could answer, the door to the club burst open.
It wasn't one of Marco's men. Three strangers charged in, guns already drawn. They wore black ski masks. "EVERYBODY DOWN! NOW!" one of them yelled.
Chaos erupted. Marco's men scrambled for their own weapons. Shots rang out. A bottle of whiskey exploded behind the bar.
Vito moved fast. He shoved the heavy table over, creating a shield between them and the door. He pulled Lex down behind it. His face was hard, his eyes scanning. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Marco's men?" Lex hissed, her heart in her throat.
"No," Vito said grimly. "Rivals. This is a hit."
The gunfire was deafening. Marco was yelling, firing back from behind an overturned chair. One of his men was already on the ground, not moving.
Lex peeked over the table. The three attackers were focused on Marco and his men. But one of them, taller than the others, suddenly turned. His eyes, visible through the mask holes, scanned the room and locked onto Vito.
The man raised his gun. He wasn't aiming at Marco anymore.
He was aiming at Vito's back.
Time slowed. Lex saw the man's finger tighten on the trigger. Vito was turned, shouting an order to one of his own guards across the room. He didn't see it.
The gunman's aim was steady. In half a second, he would fire.
Lex didn't think.
Her body moved on its own. Years of training, of learning to see an opening and strike, took over. She wasn't a waitress. She was the Sphinx.
She lunged, not away from the table, but along it. She grabbed the only weapon she could see, the heavy, crystal ashtray in the center, still full of Marco's cigar butts.
In one smooth motion, she popped up, spun, and threw.
The ashtray sailed through the smoky air. It wasn't a bullet. It didn't have to be. It was a distraction.
It hit the gunman square in the side of the head with a sickening thunk.
He staggered, his shot going wild, blasting a hole in the wall next to Vito's head. Plaster dust rained down.
Vito whirled around, finally seeing the threat.
The gunman, dazed, shook his head and raised his weapon again, this time aiming right at Lex.
He never got the chance.
Vito's hand shot out from under his jacket. He didn't have a gun. He had something smaller. A sleek, black device. He pressed a button.
A deafening BANG and a blinding flash of light filled the room. A stun grenade.
The gunman screamed, dropping his weapon and clawing at his mask. In the confusion, Vito was on him. It was fast, brutal, and quiet. One moment, the gunman was standing. Next, he was on the floor, unconscious.
The other two attackers, seeing their leader down and half-blinded, turned and fled out the shattered door.
Just like that, the shooting stopped. The only sounds were moans and the crackle of broken neon signs.
Lex stood frozen, breathing hard, the smell of gunpowder and cigars thick in her nose.
Vito stood over the fallen gunman. He looked at the ashtray on the floor, then slowly turned his head to look at Lex.
His expression was completely new. The calm mask was gone. In its place was pure, undiluted shock. And something else. A deep, burning respect.
Behind them, Marco got to his feet, his clothes stained with whiskey and blood. He was staring too. But his look wasn't shocked. It was a dark, hungry recognition. He had seen her move. He had seen the fighter.
"Well, well," Marco breathed, a slow, ugly smile spreading across his face. He looked from Lex to Vito. "You didn't bring a date, did you, old friend?" His eyes gleamed with cruel understanding. "You brought a weapon."
Vito stepped between Lex and Marco's gaze, his face turning to stone. But it was too late. Marco's smile widened. "I know who she is now," he said, his voice thrilled. "The Sphinx has come out of hiding. And she belongs to me."