Page 16

When I pull into the empty parking lot, I quickly remember why I loved living in Southern California. The beautiful, sparkly white snow is already turning into gross gray slush on the sidewalks. It seeps into my leather boots as I navigate around puddles to the front door.
I spot Uncle Luigi pacing in the lobby at the front of the building and pick up my pace. My breath comes out fast in small white clouds as I hurry up the wide concrete steps. Inside isn’tmuch warmer, since the electricity isn’t fully on yet, but at least it’s dry.
“What’s going on?” I ask as soon as I’m in the lobby. I stomp the slush off my boots and rub my poor frozen hands against my thighs to get some feeling back into them.
“It seems we had a break-in sometime in the early hours of the morning,” Luigi says gravely and leads me to the back of the complex. We walk by large halls, past offices and bathrooms, and through an employee-only door into the warehouse.
This complex was a strategic purchase for our family. The front will function as a lifestyle space for the city—a combination of shops, restaurants, and cafés, plus a vintage arcade and movie theater.
The back warehouse juts out right into the marina, a perfect point for shipping and receiving products for our more illegal activities.
After Enzo’s complaint of fire, I instantly start scanning the roof and sniffing the space. “A fire or what?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Luigi assures me. “In fact, it’s really strange. They didn’t destroy or even steal anything. Just spray painted this.”
He gestures to a large expanse of empty wall featuring a new addition—a large red graffiti reading “lullaby is coming.”
“I told you it was strange,” he says, taking in my shocked face. “What do you suppose this means? We’ve been looking into the most well-known gangs and mafia families in the city, no one uses that as their calling card.”
“What the…” I move closer to the wall, running my fingers over the letters. The paint is still damp, and it streaks the pads of my fingers, covering them in blood red. “It’s fresh.”
“The system notified me an hour ago,” he confirms. “I thought it was a false alarm since… well, since this place iscompletely empty. I wondered what the hell anyone could want in here, but I drove down to check it out anyway.”
“Lullaby,” I read out loud again. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, panic takes hold.Lullaby, like the first of the four deaths inSongs and Dances of Death.
I sink to my knees, wondering what this connection means.
“Valentina?” Uncle Luigi asks, concern lining his face. He stoops down to grab a hold of my shoulder, peering into my face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I got a strange message this morning,” I admit, my voice shaking more than it should. “I thought it was a prank or something, but then, this…”
“Show me,” he demands, sticking his hand out for my phone. I open the message and place it in his palm.
Mussorgsky’s somber tones float over us, echoing in the empty warehouse, driving my heart rate up. I pull myself off the ground and grab the phone, shutting the video off.
“This is concerning,” he says, eyeing me. “We need to tell your father immediately.”
“No,” I breathe, knowing that will only result in someone forcing me onto a flight to California. “Please, Uncle Luigi, just let me handle this. You know how he’ll react.”
“I can’t hide this from him,” he says, his voice apologetic and soft. “But… I’ll do my best to make sure you can make your own decisions, regardless of what he says.”
My teeth chatter from the cold, and my fear as Uncle Luigi calls my father and explains the situation. I listen to their back and forth, but my mind is far away, doing mental gymnastics.
We don’t know anyone in this city, except Enzo. It wouldn’t be him—this doesn’t seem like his type of game.
Although he’s the only one who knows my new number… and my love of classical music.
“Enzo Cavalli. Mark my words, he’s the rat behind this.” My father’s angry voice brings me back down to earth.
“I’m not sure, Lev.” Uncle Luigi hesitates. “This doesn’t seem like something he’d do. Hacking our computers? Sure. But breaking and entering?”
“He has an entire crew working for him now,” my father rages through the tiny speaker. “Of course he wouldn’t do the dirty work. Luigi, find out what his game is.”
“You want us to set up a meeting?”
“I wantyouto make sure he knows his place,” my father spits. “In whichever manner you choose. And Valentina?”
“Yes?” I squeak, terrified to get roped into this conversation. I can kill a man with my bare hands, but facing the wrath of my father is something else entirely.