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Rex studies him for a long second, measuring, deciding, then gives a slow nod. Without breaking eye contact with Brox, Rex raises his voice. “Get ready, boys. Tonight, we party.”

The room erupts with cheers, laughter, and raised glasses.

Rex steps aside, clearing a path with a casual sweep of his arm, and the men part just enough for us to pass.

We head for the stairs, the noise following us upward as we leave the basement behind.

CHAPTER 20

RIO

“Alessio came.” I say it into the cell while pacing the length of the penthouse, my bare feet silent on the cold marble.

Brox exhales on the other end. I hear fabric shift, some stairwell echo. He tries to speak. I don’t let him.

“He arrived early. Wanted a medal for what he did to Pasqual. It took something not to shoot him on the spot.”

“Rio–”

“But I handled it.” I pass the kitchen counter, heading toward the sofa. “I offered him coffee, I let him talk. People talk when they feel important.”

Brox mutters something clipped while I make myself comfortable on the sofa.

“I asked about his uncles, about the rest of his family. The names slid out of him without resistance. His father is dead. His mother too. The four uncles in Palermo—the ones we already met—are sick, bitter, and half-forgotten. They lean on him to revive the name. No cousins. Just old men gripping titles nobody fears anymore. No muscle left.”

Brox breathes once, heavy. “I need to tell you–”

“I have a plan.” I get up again, and head to the kitchen, pour water and take the glass with me. “When you return, we’ll host a dinner in Alessio’s honor. And kill him! I’ve had enough of that fucker.”

Brox swears under his breath.

“Don’t worry, he won’t notice,” I say. “He enjoys attention too much.” I take the water, finally drink, and set the glass down on the coffee table. “Chicago. Talk to me. Any movement?”

Brox shifts. “Oh, you want to hear about Chicago? Are you sure?”

“Don’t be an asshole. Talk.”

“Well, there’s someone here who resembles me.” He starts, and I stop him immediately.

“What do you mean, resemble you?”

“It means he looks like me. Like we’re related. It’s close enough to unsettle people. And when I started asking questions, and dropped the Sorrentino name, all hell broke loose.”

My jaw tightens. “Fuck.”

“They wanted Lana. Time with her will buy me cooperation. I will meet them tonight.”

A pulse kicks low in my chest. “How many?”

“Thirty. Rough estimate.”

The word lands heavy. “Then I should bring reinforcements. Lana doesn’t get handed over without protection.”

“You want to come?” Brox asks.

I let out a humorless breath. “You think I don’t?”

“Someone needs to be at the club, Rio.” He reminds me.