“This one.” Levi pointed to a city on the map hanging above her desk, one not so far from where they lived. It still felt a world away.
“Why that place?” She gave him a sly smile. “Should I be worried?”
“You said it was your favorite.”
His mother laughed. “Did I admit that? Don’t ever tell your father.” Then she leaned back in her stool and her gaze drifted toward the window—toward elsewhere.
“When I was fifteen, your grandfather was offered a contract to help construct an addition to the subway across the city’s South Side...”
* * *
Levi woke tangled in familiar sheets. The morning sunlight shone red and gold through the stained glass windows, casting Narinder in holy light as he sat up and stretched his back. “It’s been over twenty-four hours,” Narinder muttered. His voice was still heavy with sleep.
“Since what?” Levi asked groggily.
“Since I’ve had coffee.” He cast him an annoyed look. “It doesn’t help that you steal the covers.”
Levi frowned at the pile of blankets on his side of the bed. In the past two weeks, he’d spent so much time at the Catacombs that he’d apparently begun to claim things as his own. “Here.” He shoved them at the musician. “We don’t need to get up yet.”
Levi intended to put off the day as long as possible, even if he had plenty of reasons to be in a good mood. He hadn’t heard from Vianca in ages. Most of his injuries had healed, except for his ribs. And his relationship with Narinder was in a better place than he’d ever hoped it could be.
But all of those facts were overshadowed by the promise Levi made to the most powerful criminals of the North Side. One he’d staked his entire reputation on.
And in two weeks, he’d come through with nothing.
Narinder sighed and lay back down. “You’re making that face like you want to be pitied.”
Levi frowned deeper. “I don’t have a pity face.”
“You know, you could always come up with another idea.”
But Levi already had the perfect idea—it was grand, brilliant, and would spell catastrophe for Captain Hector and the South Side.
But it was also dangerous, and Levi didn’t want to spill blood, even if the whiteboots had already spilled theirs. And for that, he needed Harrison’s help. Unfortunately, Harrison had gone silent since he announced his Senate candidacy, leaving Levi to wait while his reputation withered to nothing.
“There is no other plan,” he answered grimly.
Narinder turned on his side, head propped on his hand. “Should I be nervous?”
“That depends on what you’re nervous about.”
“That you’ll get yourself killed.”
Levi laughed bitterly. The world wasn’t giving him the opportunity to try. “Save your worries.” Narinder’s face darkened, and Levi realized his tone had been too bleak. He quickly threw on a card dealer smile. “I grew up listening to stories about New Reynes, and so I came here to make a story of my own. I think about it constantly—what sort of story am I writing?Where does all this lead?”
“I never thought criminals could be so self-reflective,” Narinder teased.
Levi scowled. He was being serious. “Maybe I’m different—Iwantto be different. I’m only holding off because I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“You can’t ensure that.”
“No, but at least, if something goes wrong, I’ll know I tried.”
“You’re a terrible gangster,” Narinder told him, with a playful shove. Levi would’ve pushed him, if turning himself over wasn’t still so dreadfully painful. “But you’re a good person.”
No one had told Levi those words in a long time, and he hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear them. Lately, all he could think about was the Irons losing their faith in him all over again, Enne’s expression at the Catacombs dissolving from hope into hurt, Jac finding his way into a Torren drug den he wouldn’t be able to fight out of.
Maybe he didn’t deserve Narinder’s words. But at least he still cared.
