Chapter 112

Layla

Unnatural quiet had settled over the Marcello estate, like the calm before the storm. To add to the feeling of foreboding hanging heavy in the air, an actual storm was on its way, looming over the city in the form of heavy rainclouds.

The quiet, the clouds … it all mirrored the turmoil in my chest.

I sat at the long dining table, hands clenched into fists on the polished wood, my mind circling the same thought over and over: Why hadn’t she called yet?

Carlo and Aldo sat across from me, their expressions dark, tense. Around us, Marcello soldiers moved like shadows, awaiting orders, waiting for war.

“She’s toying with us,” Aldo told me, his voice a soft buzz. More calm to ruffle my ire. “She wants you worked up and ready for answers.”

“I am worked up and ready for answers.”

“Chomping at the bit to make a move.”

I stared at my phone like I could will it into ringing. And still, it didn’t. Aldo and Carlo ordered men onto the streets or across the city, into cars and buildings. At some point, Aldo got up with a murmured explanation about meeting with Ethan.

Naturally, the moment he left my side, that’s when my phone buzzed against the tabletop.

I snatched it up.

She hadn’t even bothered to call from an unknown number. Vanessa, the caller ID read. My heart pounded, but my hand was steady as I lifted the phone to my ear.

I didn't bother with a greeting. “Talk.”

“Layla,” Vanessa's voice oozed through the receiver like poisoned honey. “How lovely to hear your voice, dear friend.”

My fingers threatened to crack the phone with the force behind the grip, but I refused to take her bait. “You must want something from me. Save us both the time and energy and tell me what it is.”

“Ah, yes. My demands.” Vanessa chuckled, and the sound lifted goosebumps on the back of my neck. It was her voice, her laugh—and yet so different. “I’d ask what yours are, but we know who has the upper hand here.”

“I won’t be toyed with, Vanessa.” My voice came out as cold and calm as hers. I refused to be her plaything. Refused. “Tell me what you want, or I hang up.”

I switched the phone to speaker, so her voice rang out across the entire room.

“But if you hang up,” Vanessa purred, “I guarantee you’ll never see your son alive again.”

She wanted me to react with violent, empty threats. To warn her what might happen if she harmed a hair on his head. She wanted me to foam at the mouth with my own fear—

I wouldn’t do it.

“Here’s the thing about a bluff, Vanessa,” I said instead. “You’d better hope the other players don’t call it.”

“Oh?” She laughed, that saccharine sound again. Sweet and cold, like southern tea—designed to make your senses pucker. “You think because we’re such close friends that I wouldn’t hurt him?”

My turn to laugh, slow and soft and sweet. “Oh, no. I’ve no illusions as to the depth of your friendship. I have something you want. And the fact that you haven’t told me yet what it is means it’s something big—and you want it bad.”

The slightest pause at the end of the line told me I was right.

“Very good, Layla. But do you really think there’s anything in this world I could want more than you want your son?”

“No,” I agreed. “I’m sure there’s not. Which is why I haven’t hung up yet. I just thought you should know you don’t hold all the cards.”

“Don’t think we’re on an even playing field.”

“I’m under no such illusions.” My voice went cold, hard. “Talk, or I hang up, and you don’t get a second try.”

“Fine.” Vanessa’s voice pitched slightly higher, gleeful. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to disband your soldiers, stand down, and return everything the Marcellos took from my family. Businesses, properties, weapons. All of it.”

I barked out a humorless laugh. “Weapons. Businesses. I know that’s not what this is about.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Vanessa replied smoothly. “But it’s first on my list.”

“Fine. But first, prove he’s alive.” My fingers went white on the tabletop as I delivered my own demand. “Right now.”

A pause. Then rustling, the muffled sound of movement. And a child’s voice whispered on the other end. “Mom?”

My breath caught, and my heart shattered at the sound of Eli’s small, scared voice. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Eli. How are you? Is Aunt Vanessa treating you well?”

“She said it was safer here than at home.”

I blinked back a sudden wave of tears. “She’s right. It’s not safe here. But she’ll—she’ll take good care of you.”

I could only pray no one called this bluff.

The line shuffled again, and Vanessa’s voice returned. “See? He’s fine. For now. But time is ticking, Layla. You don’t have long to decide.”

“And if I refuse?”

Vanessa sighed. “Then I guess we both lose the thing we want most.”

I forced my breath to stay steady, even as my heart beat a rapid staccato that echoed through my chest. Across the table, Carlo watched me with a hawk’s beady gaze.

“All right, fine.” My voice was cold. “You get back everything we took.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“What’s next, Vanessa,” I said, fighting hard against the venom that wanted to snarl its way through my words. “I already told you I know this isn’t about weapons or territories. I want to know what you want.”

“We’re getting there.”

“You’re toying with me,” I corrected, my hand clenching into a tight fist atop the table. Carlo’s eyes dropped to study the movement. “And I don’t like it.”

“Next,” Vanessa continued, like she hadn’t heard me. Like I hadn’t spoken. “I want five of the Marcello family’s top businesses—”

“No, you don’t.” My voice turned to cold steel to counter the false playfulness of hers. “I already told you I won’t play games or be played with.”

“And what about your son?” Vanessa’s voice dropped to match mine—seriousness laced with deadly poison. “You won’t play with me, but will you play with him? With his life?”

“Don’t fuck with me Vanessa,” I snarled. “I know this isn’t about money or business or territories. Tell me what the fuck you want, or I hang up.”

“You’re right.” A smooth, deep voice spoke from behind me, and I whirled to find Aldo at the door to the dining room. I’d never seen his face look so haggard, so grim.

My heart lurched inside its cage of bones. “Aldo.”

He strode into the room, and every eye followed him to my side. “It’s not about business at all. It’s personal. Isn’t it, Vanessa?”

Another beat of silence, a pause that hung so heavy, it might have almost been a tangible thing, a stormcloud in its own right.

“Aldo Marcello,” Vanessa said, but there was something different in her voice this time. Something colder, sharper. “I suppose the great Mafia king thinks he knows what I want.”

This wasn’t a game anymore; we’d stopped playing the moment Aldo had walked into this room.

“I do know what you want,” Aldo replied. “You want vengeance. Don’t you?”