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I nodded, as if I was just learning this bit of info now.
She nodded, her hazel eyes meeting mine with a soft curiosity. "Hassan," she began, pausing as though choosing her words cagily. "Is that why you're here? Because of the kid?"
The question took me aback. Sure, the boy was part of it– but it wasn’t just about him. It was Bash, it was loyalty, and honestly, a slice of it was myself too. You don't endure what we've been through without finding a part of yourself entwined in all the chaos and bloodshed.
"No," I said at last. "It's more than that."
"If it had been up to Vito, they would have sent Sebastian to boarding school when he was old enough. Kept him far away from all of this."
"There's a gravitational pull to this," I said. "Look at the baby's mother."
"Alicia," she noted, her voice becoming a mere whisper as if the echo of the name might resurrect her lost ghost. "She was far away, wasn't she? Living a different life entirely. Yet the underworld found her."
"Or she found it," I countered. "Sometimes it's not just about escaping... it's about belonging."
Valentina looked at me for a long moment, as though putting together a puzzle she hadn't realized she'd been given. A frown tugged at her delicate features, but soon dissolved into a conceding nod.
"That might be true," she admitted softly, the moonlight catching her gaze and turning it almost silver. "This world, as brutal and unforgiving as it can be...it has its own allure. Its own bonds."
"More like shackles," I said wryly. But there was truth in both our words–the underworld was a treacherous ocean that could drown you as easily as it could cradle you. An ocean that twisted and turned with the tides of power and betrayal, and yet, there was a strange beauty in it. We were both addicted. Alicia had been, too. And even when I’d tried to pull Justice away from all this…it hadn’t worked.
We were back in Miami.
You didn’t just leave. "So why do Vito and his wife seem to want custody of Sebastian now? What changed?"
Valentina shrugged, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Word on the street is that Vito's been asking around. The veil of grief has lifted and now...I mean, everyone knew there was a rift between Jez and Bash. Who says Bash didn't kill Jez and then kill his wife?"
"Bash didn't kill Jez."
"You'd know," she replied. "In any case, maybe he's gotten wind of something, something that's made him antsy about the boy being with Bash."
Something cold and sharp prickled at the back of my neck; an old instinct, a survival mechanism born from years of navigating the treacherous waters we were discussing. "What kind of something?"
"I'm not sure," Valentina admitted, her gaze suddenly nervous and fidgety. "It's just rumors, whispers in the shadows. People are saying Vito ain't what he used to be. There's talk of a sickness, and not the kind you recover from. It's possible he wants to secure his line, ensuring his blood continues to rule."
The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Vito was an institution in this world of ours, a constant–ruthless, powerful, unyielding. The idea of him succumbing to something as ordinary as disease seemed almost...wrong.
"So Bash has his son, and possibly Vito's only chance at a lasting legacy," I mused aloud, my mind racing with the implications. "That would make Bash…vulnerable."
Valentina nodded, her earlier playfulness replaced with grim seriousness. "And it makes Sebastian more valuable than ever. If Vito dies..." she let the sentence hang in the air, its ominous implications settling in the silence between us.
The breeze wafted through the sparse trees, rustling leaves and playing with Valentina's hair. We both stared out into the shadowy landscape, lost in our thoughts. Sebastian was not only a child caught between two powerful factions–he was now a potential heir, a pawn in a game of power and control that none of us ever truly escaped from.
"Then Sebastian becomes the key to controlling the De Lucas empire," I finished, my voice rough with the understanding. "And anyone who has him would have that power."
"Ding ding ding," she said. "You get a prize. And your boss? Your friend? His girlfriend?"
I looked at her, not saying anything.
"Yeah," she said. "They're all dead. And so are you."
Chapter Five: Justice
The familiar hum of voices and laughter filled the air as I stepped into the Miami Knives' luxurious headquarters. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city's skyline, casting a warm glow on the sleek modern furniture and polished marble floors. The scent of coffee mingled with the rich aroma of leather and expensive cologne.
It was past Sebastian’s bedtime, so I knew he would be asleep. I would check on him later.
This was home–the penthouse in Brickell, Bash’s apartment, Miami Knives HQ.
