Chapter 4
She hesitated. Her grip on the puppy tightened. The animal whimpered softly, sensing her distress.
“I promise you,” Rossetti said quietly, and his voice dropped something — the hard edge, the practiced menace. What remained was just a man speaking to a child. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to take you anywhere. But if you want me to help your mother, we need to have a real conversation. Not in the rain. Not in the street. Somewhere I can think clearly.”
Something in his eyes must have convinced her. She nodded once, sharp and quick, and climbed into the black Mercedes that had pulled up beside them like a shark surfacing from dark water.
The puppy left wet paw prints on the leather seat.
—
The back room of Café Nate smelled of espresso grounds and old cigarettes, a scent that had soaked into the walls over thirty years until it became part of the building’s DNA. Four men sat around a table covered in ledgers and cash bundles. A silver pistol caught the yellow overhead light. Counting the night’s collections was routine. The interruption was not.
The door opened. Conversation died.
Rossetti walked in with a little girl at his side, one hand resting on her shoulder. Not restraining. Guiding. Her pink jacket was still dripping onto the concrete floor. Her sneakers squeaked as she took a tentative step forward.
“Boss,” Vittorio said, confusion evident in his voice. “I thought you were just stepping out for air.”
“Change of plans.”
May you like
Rossetti pulled out a chair and gestured for Elena to sit. She climbed onto it, her legs too short to reach the floor. The puppy settled in her lap, still trembling. On the table, bundles of cash sat in neat stacks. A ledger lay open to a page of handwritten numbers. The silver pistol caught the light again.
Elena stared at the gun. Her face went pale, but she didn’t cry.
