Levi cleared his throat. “You might not want to attend.”
“Why is that?” Sophia asked.
He hesitated.
“It’s Irons business,” he said uncertainly.
Jac stiffened. “I see how it is, then. Tock is your second now?”
Levi held his breath. He would give just about anything to have Jac back. Even though Levi was lord, Jac was the one who’d really started the gang on the day he swore. But he didn’t know if Jac even missed the Irons. He didn’t think he’d want to come back.
“No one has ever called her anything but my third,” Levi answered. He hoped it sounded like an offer. But after a few moments bracing himself for rejection, he worked up his courage to actually say the words. “I want you to come back, but I understand if you won’t. Either way, you’re still my best friend.”
Jac’s face broke out into a smile. “Of course I’ll come back.”
Levi was so relieved he stumbled over his words. “We don’t pay much. It’s been tough since the lockdown. Not great at all, if I’m being honest. But you’ve always been my partner. And we could use—”
“I said I’m coming back, didn’t I?” Jac said, smirking. “And I like the sound of that. Partner.”
Levi smiled his first real smile in a long time. He didn’t have a chance to continue on about how he was lousy and selfish and had made a mess of things in his friend’s absence, because Jac leaned forward with a serious look in his eyes.
“So what did you mean by Irons business?”
Levi cleared his throat. He’d worked out his plan on the way here, and already, Tock was making calls to the other lords.
“Well, as you know, the winner of the election will be announced at Vianca’s party at St. Morse Casino.” He grinned mischievously. “And the North Side is going to crash it.”
ENNE
Vianca Augustine poured herself a glass of bourbon, and when she sipped it, disgust evident on her face, it was clear she had no taste for the drink. But still, she poured more. She offered none to Enne, despite having a full bottle of it on her desk.
Enne saw through the cracks in Vianca’s velvet office curtains that it was close to sunset, and therefore, close to curfew. Her heart dropped. She didn’t relish the thought of spending the night in St. Morse.
“Did Levi tell you what we spoke about yesterday?” Vianca asked. She traced a fingertip around the edge of her drink, her nail scratching the grooves in the glass.
Enne hadn’t spoken to Levi in weeks, but she’d heard from Tock this afternoon. All five gangs would be meeting tomorrow morning to prepare for the events Levi had planned, and after being summoned to St. Morse, Enne spent most of her drive here imagining how she’d face Levi again after what she’d done. She’d never get Lourdes back, but she might someday earn his forgiveness, even if meant abandoning her plans for revenge.
“He didn’t,” Enne answered nervously. She didn’t like the flatness of Vianca’s tone. Though her voice could hardly ever be called lively, there was something unmistakably dead in it at this moment.
“I suppose not. I heard about your little falling out.”
Enne’s heart quickened. Had she forced the details out of Levi? Did she know how Enne had manipulated her? “What did you and Levi talk about?”
“I offered him the chance to become my successor. It wasn’t an offer I made lightly.” Vianca pulled herself to her feet and swept past Enne toward the door. As Enne stood to follow her and express her surprise, Vianca chirped, “Oh, no, my dear. Keep your seat.”
The doorclickedas it locked.
“I knew from the second I saw you,” Vianca continued. She walked in front of Enne and wrenched her face up by her chin, hard enough to hurt. Enne winced as the donna’s eyes roamed over her. Vianca hadn’t touched her like this since the first day they met. “Levi had never introduced anyone to me before, and I never really believed he owed a favor to your father, like you told me.” Vianca leaned forward, her breath hot on Enne’s face. “Where is your father, dear? Nobody who comes asking something of me ever has anyone waiting for them.”
Enne knew Vianca well enough to understand none of her questions begged answers. Even if shecouldspeak, her voice was buried somewhere deep inside of her. When she opened her mouth, not even air came out. She choked, her windpipe suddenly as small as a sipping straw, and panic seized in her chest.
The entire time the omerta toyed with her, Vianca didn’t let go. She gripped Enne tighter as she squirmed. Her body was rooted to the chair.
“You were so lost,” Vianca said, just as Enne’s eyes welled with tears. Though shewasafraid, she hated giving Vianca the satisfaction of showing it. But the longer she failed to draw breath, the more her body betrayed her. When she coughed, Vianca wiped the saliva away with her thumb, smearing it across Enne’s chin with a streak of pink lipstick. “But I saw the potential in you. The potential inhim.”
She pulled Enne forward so violently that Enne needed to squeeze her armrests to keep from falling over. “How long have you known?” the donna spat.
Enne shook her head. The omerta’s grip around her lungs squeezed tighter. There were dozens of things Vianca could’ve been referencing, and if Enne said the wrong one, she’d only make her situation worse. It didn’t matter how much she’d accomplished, how fearsome she’d become: when it came to Vianca, Enne was helpless. She was still the same schoolgirl who’d arrived in New Reynes, lost and alone, just as Vianca had described.
