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I take a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before answering.

"Not yet," I say, flicking ash into the night. "Vieri's ambition will be useful. Better to let the rot fester a little longer, and lead us to whoever he is working for."

“Or maybe just bring Vieri in and make him spill.”

“No, Vieri is hardened. He would rather die than spill. Instead, we will keep our eyes on him, and he will unknowingly lead us to see who the real enemy is.”

Vittorio grunts, the sound half approval, half caution. "Dangerous game."

"The only kind worth playing," I murmur.

Maybe one day I’ll deliver Sal Vieri’s name to Giancarlo Calviño.

He'll see me as loyal.

Useful.

A trusted blade.

Precisely what I want him to see. Because every favor I do for Giancarlo brings me closer to gutting him from the inside out. And when the day comes, allegiances won’t save him.

Nothing will.

The engine purrs softly beneath me as I sit behind the wheel, one hand draped casually over it and the other scrolling through my contacts. The night presses heavily against the windows, thick with salt and secrets.

I find the name I’m looking for and tap call.

Three rings. Then a gruff voice answers, “Yeah?”

“Tell Don Giancarlo the problem’s been handled,” I say, keeping my tone cool and detached.

A pause. I can hear the man’s mind whirring through the silence, calculating.

“Handled how?”

“Permanently. He won’t be a threat to our shipments anymore.”

Another beat. Then a grunt of satisfaction.

“Good work. The Don will be pleased.”

As I am about to drop the call, Fabio Greco speaks up again. “Did he tell you who he was working for?

“No, he refused to spill.”

“You should have made him.” Fabio Greco grunts irritably. “CapoVieri, I’m sure would have gotten that information out of him.”

I bite my tongue to hold back retorting that their preciousCapohas been compromised.

“I deployed every method, but he still wouldn’t spill.”

“If only Vieri weren’t on a different mission, we would have known who our enemy is.”

Before I can respond, the line goes dead without a goodbye.

Typical.

I toss the burner onto the passenger seat, then pull out my personal phone and scroll to find Vittorio.