Chapter 61 The Toast
The dining room was a shark tank disguised as a banquet hall.
Twelve men sat around the long, polished mahogany table. These were Dante’s lieutenants. They were the Capos who ran the criminal underbelly of the city.
They were large men with scarred hands and expensive Italian suits. They filled the room with the heavy, cloying scents of musk cologne and cigar smoke.
The air vibrated with their loud voices and the aggressive energy of violence barely contained by civility.
I sat at Dante’s right hand. It was the place of honor.
The table was set with fine china and crystal that caught the light of the chandelier overhead. Servants moved silently in the background like shadows.
They poured wine that cost more than my entire college tuition and served platters of food.
The conversation was not polite dinner talk. It was war talk. They were discussing the attack. They were discussing the "rat" that had been purged from their ranks.
"Stupid kid," a man named Vitale spat. He was a massive man with a thick neck and eyes like beads of black glass. He cut into his steak with savage force. The knife screeched against the china.
"Jose was always soft. I told Enzo last year that the boy had no stomach for this life."
"He had a stomach for treason," another man laughed from across the table. He raised his wine glass. His fingers were thick with gold rings.
"Though I bet he didn't have much of a stomach left after the Boss was done with him."
Laughter rippled around the table. It was a cruel, guttural sound that made my skin crawl. They were talking about a human being.
They were talking about a boy they had known and worked with as if he were nothing more than a pest that had been exterminated.
I stared at my plate. A thick cut of prime rib sat there. It was swimming in a pool of dark jus that looked far too much like blood.
The smell of the roasted meat was making my head spin. It sent waves of nausea rolling through my stomach. I took a sip of wine and hoped the alcohol would burn away the sickness rising in my throat.
"And you, Signora?" Vitale asked. He suddenly turned his gaze on me.
The table went quiet. Twelve pairs of predator eyes turned to look at the woman in the red dress.
"It must have been frightening," Vitale continued. His voice dripped with false solicitude.
"Being on the rampart when the shell hit. Most women would have fainted."
Dante stopped eating. He did not look at me, but I saw his hand clench around his fork until his knuckles turned white. He was waiting. He was testing me. He wanted to see if I would crumble under the pressure.
I remembered Lucrezia’s venomous words. You are just a prop.
I lifted my chin slowly. I forced my lips into a cold, stiff smile that did not reach my eyes.
"It was loud," I said. My voice was steady and clear. It cut through the silence of the room. "But I knew who was standing next to me. So I was not afraid."
Dante relaxed visibly. His shoulders dropped an inch. A murmur of approval went around the table.
"Well said," Vitale grunted. He nodded his head. "Loyalty. That is what matters in the end."
Dante stood up. The movement was sharp and commanding. It drew the attention of every man in the room.
He picked up his spoon and tapped it against his crystal glass. The sharp ting-ting-ting silenced the room instantly.
"To loyalty," Dante said. He raised his glass high. He looked down at me. His eyes were warm. They were filled with a pride that made me feel like I was burning alive.
"And to Lilith. Who stood in the fire and did not flinch. Who has proven herself to be true."
"To Lilith!" the men roared in unison. They raised their glasses to the ceiling.
I raised mine. My hand was trembling. I hid it by gripping the fragile stem so hard I thought the glass would snap in my palm.
To Lilith, I thought bitterly. The liar. The killer. The fraud.
I drank the wine in one swallow. It tasted like vinegar and ash.
Just as the toast ended and the men began to sit, the heavy double doors at the far end of the room opened. Enzo walked in.
He looked uneasy. His usual stoic expression was replaced by a frown of confusion. He was carrying a small, square box wrapped in sleek black paper.
He walked up to the head of the table. He ignored the curious glances of the other men.
"Boss," he said quietly. He leaned down so only Dante and I could hear.
"This was just left at the front gate. The guards didn't see who dropped it. A courier motorcycle sped off before they could engage."
Dante frowned. The warmth vanished from his face instantly. "Bomb sweep?"
"Clean," Enzo said. "We scanned it three times. It is just electronics. It is addressed to the Lady."
He set the black box on the tablecloth in front of me.
The room went dead silent again. Every eye was fixed on the mysterious package. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.
Dante looked at me. He gave me a sharp nod. "Open it."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a prisoner trying to break out. I reached out with cold, numb fingers and tore the black paper. I lifted the lid of the box.
Inside sat a sleek, brand-new smartphone.
It was top of the line. It was expensive and black as midnight.
There was a small white card resting on the darkened screen.
I picked it up. My blood ran cold and froze in my veins.
There was no name signed at the bottom. There was just a single line of typed text in a generic font.
Since you broke the last one. We have more work to do.
I stopped breathing. The world narrowed down to that tiny white card.
They knew. Rinaldi knew I had destroyed the burner phone. They knew exactly what I had done in the bathroom while the water was running.
They were watching me. Or worse, there was someone else inside the house who had seen me.
If I showed Dante the note, he would know everything. He would know I "broke the last one." He would put the pieces together. Jose’s death would be revealed for the mistake it was.
I shoved the card into my palm. I crumpled it tight until the edges dug into my skin.
"What is it?" Dante asked. His voice was low and laced with sudden suspicion. He was looking at my pale face. "Who is it from?"
I stared at the phone. My mind raced and spun through a thousand lies to find one that would save my life.
"It is... it is a gift," I stammered. My voice was shaking. "From my father. A new phone."
Dante stared at me. He looked at the expensive device. He looked at my clenched fist where the note was hidden. His eyes narrowed into slits.
"Your father?" he repeated slowly. The words dripped with doubt. "Your father who has not spoken to you in a month? Your father who sold you to me?"
"He wants to make amends," I said. The lie tasted like bile in my mouth. "Because of the attack. He wants to know I am safe."
Dante did not blink. He looked at me for a long, agonizing second. He was a human lie detector. He could smell fear like a shark smells blood in the water.
And I was terrified.