Page 6 of King of Praise

“What about the remnants of Alessandro’s operation?” Eli asks. “Diana Costa’s still running that restaurant downtown.”

I shake my head. “She’ll sell. Get out while she can. Woman’s not stupid. She knows which way the wind’s blowing.”

“Could be useful,” Zeke muses. “Right location. Good cover for meetings.”

“I know someone who might be interested in buying,” I offer. “Legitimate businessman looking to expand. We could maintain access without direct ownership.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you know legitimate businessmen?”

“I know people,” I grumble as I tap the map again. “Speaking of which, we should look at expanding our protection services into these areas. Lot of nervous shop owners watching the power shift.”

“Good cover for maintaining presence in disputed territory,” Eli agrees.

Zeke studies the map intently. “We’ll need more men. Trusted ones.”

“I’ve got a few prospects,” I say. “Ex-military mostly. Looking for work, disciplined, know how to keep quiet.”

“Vet them carefully,” Zeke orders. “Last thing we need is someone flipping to Nicolo when he makes his play.”

“We should consider approaching Tommy Moretti,” Sebastian suggests. “He may be a Barone enforcer, but he’s Nicolo’s cousin. Could be useful intel there.”

I shake my head. “Too risky. Tommy’s loyal to whoever pays best, and Nicolo’s got deeper pockets than us. For now.”

“Agreed,” Zeke says. “We focus on consolidating what we can hold. Build our strength quietly before Nicolo realizes how much territory is up for grabs.”

The familiar weight of planning violence settles over me. I’ve spent decades in this world of shadows and power plays. First with small local families, now here helping Zeke build something different. Something almost legitimate. Still on the gray side, but with the club no one can pinpoint our activities with clarity.

My coffee has gone cold. I push it aside, studying the map again. So many pieces in motion. So many ways this could go wrong. One misstep and we’ll have a war on our hands that none of us want.

“The Barone woman,” Eli says suddenly. “Francesca. She’s ambitious. Might see this as her chance to step out of Marcus’s shadow.”

“She’s also pragmatic,” I counter. “Smart enough to know she needs allies. Might be worth feeling out where she stands.”

Zeke considers this. “Do more research on her. Make sure she’s a go before we approach.”

I nod, already mentally cataloging possibilities. This is what I do best—analyze threats, plan contingencies, keep people alive. It’s why Zeke trusts my judgment. Why he brought me in when he first came to Columbus.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait until this meeting ends.

“Timeline?” Sebastian asks.

“Fast,” Zeke replies. “Nicolo knows too much. We need our pieces in place before he decides to make his move.”

I trace potential conflict points on the map. “The warehouse district is key. Whoever controls that controls the flow of goods through the city. Costa’s people know that. They’ll hold out for the highest bidder.”

“Then we make sure that’s us,” Zeke says with finality. “Work your contacts, all of you. I want to know every whisper, every deal being made. No surprises.”

The meeting continues, details hammered out with practiced efficiency. We’ve done this dance before, though never with stakes quite so high.

The Columbus underworld is shifting, and we need to be ready.

The winter windwhips across the back lot of Club Velvet Petal, carrying the promise of more snow. I pull my scarf tighter around my neck as I head for my truck, boots crunching through the thin layer of ice coating the pavement. My breath comes out in white puffs, joining the swirling flakes that have started to fall.

Despite the sunny day, it’s still cold as fuck, leaving the world around me covered in ice and snow. But sunshine is still better than gray skies.

Recalling the missed call earlier, I fish my phone out of my pocket with gloved fingers, frowning at the notification.Naomi. She never calls during the day. A flicker of unease runs through me as I try calling back, but it goes straight to voicemail.

She’s fine, I tell myself.Probably just wanted to ask about dinner plans.But the knot in my gut tightens. Something feels off.