Page 73 of Twilight Mask

“We’re not all paranoid fucks like you.” He puts his phone down and stretches out. “Want something to eat?”

“Nah, I’m good. I just want to talk.”

“Sure, let’s talk.” He barks something in Spanish and one of the guys behind the glass says something about getting right on it back. But my Spanish sucks. “I’m guessing Valentina told you.”

I stare at him. I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. “You got anything to say?” I ask, bluffing.

“It’s nothing personal. You know we’re friends and I’m on your side, but it’s just how things are moving, right? Adam’s got the plan, and you—” He waves in the air and spreads his fingers, miming a puff of smoke.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I’m getting iced out.” That’s what I felt. I knew it, deep in my bones. The winds shifted, the politics changed, and I’m no longer leading the group.

“I wouldn’t put it that way. More like you were replaced. Again, nothing personal.” Ronan has the good sense to look genuinely chagrined at least. “I’d rather have you in charge than that big fucking Polish prick, but he’s the man with the action plan at the moment.”

One of the workers comes over and drops two slices on the table. They’re both plain, and Ronan pushes one to me. I stare at it, head working, not really seeing the food. He picks up his slice and takes a bite, chews, watches me.

I’m being replaced. I shouldn’t be surprised. It shouldn’t bother me. This is probably good for everyone involved—I don’t have the best interests of the group at heart anymore. I’m fucking compromised.

It still pisses me off.

“This alliance only exists because I made it happen,” I say quietly, ignoring my pizza.

“And we’re all so very grateful.” Ronan’s smirk pisses me off. He doesn’t take anything seriously. “Come on, eat. Don’t insult me.”

“Dusan’s in for the plan?”

“Dusan’s chomping at the fucking bit.”

“And Valentina—” I start but stop at the guilty expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything for too fucking long. “It was her idea, wasn’t it?”

“She might have made some comments, you know, backchanneled a bit. She didn’t question your loyalty,” he says quickly, “but just your commitment.”

Fuck. God fucking fuck. I should’ve seen this coming. Valentina got mad and decided I can’t be trusted anymore, and now she’s steering everyone in her direction. Because to Valentina, revenge against the Biancos for taking away her father and her life is everything, and she knows I don’t feel that way anymore.

I don’t. I really don’t. It’s bizarre, but I don’t. Ever since Luciano was killed, I’ve been consumed by thoughts of hurting the Biancos for taking him away, and now those feelings are like a dull pulse. Killing Biancos won’t bring him back. Hurting their Famiglia won’t save what we lost. Revenge isn’t anything but more suffering.

Moving forward is the only option. Laura’s my future.

I push back from the table and get to my feet. “When and where?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Come on. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Just tell me.”

“There’s some new art gallery. Adam wants to hit the opening night. He thinks there will be some high-level Biancos in attendance.”

My skin crawls. I can see Laura in her mask looking beautiful and light and happy. I can see her body shredded to pieces by gunfire. The screams, the blood splattered across her sculptures. “That’s a bad plan,” I say and turn away.

“I don’t know. Seems smart. Hey, wait a second, don’t walk off. Can I have your slice? Marco, come on!”

I ignore him and leave the pizza place.

Valentina’s not hard to find. She’s at her apartment, a ratty little two-bedroom that I pay for. That I used to pay for. She keeps it nice, even though the building isn’t the best, and she stares at me for a long few seconds as I stand in front of her in the hall.

“You should come in, I guess,” she says.

But I shake my head. “I was just talking with Ronan.”

She doesn’t seem ashamed of herself. Good, that’s good, at least she’s got a spine. “I’m not going to apologize.”

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