Page 12 of Shadows of Steel

I lean back, my tone cold. “Precisely.”

Mario chuckles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, Naples’ finest on cleanup duty. Let’s see which idiot screwed up this time.”

He settles into his seat, watching me from the corner of his eye. His smirk returns.

“You know,” he says, his tone lighter but no less pointed, “for a man who claims to hate tradition, you sure play the part well.”

I don’t respond, letting the silence hang heavy between us. Mario, as always, talks too much. But that’s why I keep him close, he’s unfiltered, unafraid to say the things no one else will. And sometimes, even a man like me needs a voice that doesn’t care about decorum.

Chapter 5

Dante

The drive doesn’t take long. The cars stop, and I exit, meeting Giovanni as he steps out of his own vehicle. We exchange a brief glance before walking side by side into the building. His irritation is barely masked by his typically unflappable demeanour. The sudden summons has cracked his composure, and I make a mental note of it. Every weakness is an opportunity.

An officer, clearly nervous but masking it poorly, greets us with a barely concealed flinch under Ricci’s sharp glare.

“Why did you call?” Giovanni growls, his voice heavy with authority and laced with barely restrained anger.

The officer gestures for us to follow. We are led into a small, starkly lit room, the air taut with unspoken tension. Seated in a chair is a woman, her presence striking, almost magnetic, despite the austere surroundings.

“This woman killed one of Signor Dante’s men.” The officer announces, the words slicing through the silence like a gunshot.

I remain silent, but my interest is piqued. My gaze sweeps over her, noting every detail. Her posture is unyielding, a subtle defiance radiating from her like a challenge. Long black hair frames her face, sleek and straight, a dark veil that accentuates her striking features. Her eyes, big, doe-like, a pale, unfeeling grey, lock onto something in the distance, unblinking and calculating. There’s a sharpness to her movements, a quiet confidence she wears effortlessly. She’s petite and slender, but there’s an undeniable strength in the way she holds herself.

Stunning, yes, but I don’t let that fucking affect me.

It never has.

I don’t allow women to mean more than fleeting distractions. They’re ephemeral, like smoke, and I’m too focused to let anything obscure my vision. I’ve never encountered awoman worth more than that. People like her are either assets or liabilities. I don’t care which. As Capo di Capi, I’ve learned one thing above all else, weakness, even in the form of desire, is a luxury I can’t afford.

“Interesting.” I finally say, the word a slow drawl.

Ricci shifts beside me, his unease almost tangible. I let the moment stretch, feeding off the tension. “She killed one of my men, you say?” I ask, my voice even. My eyes remain on her.

The officer nods. “Shot him. And the ID she was carrying? Fake. We’ve been digging, and it turns out her real last name is… Moretti.”

Ricci stiffens beside me, and I glance at him just in time to see his jaw tighten. The slight flicker of his surprise doesn’t escape me.

“Moretti?” Ricci says, his voice low. “As in the Chicago Mafia? Vincenzo Moretti’s family? Does she have any ties to them?”

The officer shrugs. “We don’t know for sure. She refuses to talk.”

Before Ricci can press further, the woman’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and dry. “I said I want a lawyer and a phone call. By law, I’m entitled to both.”

There’s venom in her tone, enough to make the officer bristle. “You won’t get one.” he snaps back.

She leans forward, her eyes flashing. “Alright then. That’s fine. All my life, I’ve been defending myself. Don’t see why that should change now. And I don’t have anything to hide, so bring it on.”

I let out a low hum of amusement. She’s bold.

Bold is dangerous.

Bold isentertaining.

“Who was the man she killed?” I ask, my voice is calm, but I make sure it carries. I don’t address her directly. Instead, I waitfor the officer’s response, however my gaze is still fixed on her, unrelenting. The silence stretches.

Her eyes finally meet mine, and for the first time, she acknowledges me. Her gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t shrink. That’s rare and intriguing.