Page 2 of The Silent War
Rome looked between us before agreeing. I could guarantee he regretted it. It was supposed to be a bet between brothers, who could sink the most shots. We were reminded we didn’t get the luxury of that anymore.
“So… port meeting tomorrow?” Rome grabbed a cigarette packet off the table, only to toss it to the ground when he realized it was empty. “Who’s sitting in?”
Tomorrow wasn’t a port meeting. It was a body count with wine glasses.
“Union rep. Two city inspectors. Nero’s silent partner will try to show. We cut him out fast,” Luca said, picking the empty packet up and tossing Rome a fresh one.
“We set it at Ember & Ice. Private room. Cameras off. Security doubled,” I added, holding my glass tighter.
Even in business, I thought of her. How many nights she’d sat at tables surrounded by men writing her into contracts.
“Less like dinner and more like a funeral.” Rome gave a half-smile, lighting a cigarette.
“That was the point.” I flexed the ache out of my hand. “Anyone showed soft, we bled ground.”
Luca’s eyes met mine. “You taking lead?”
“Yeah. But you ran numbers before we walked in. Rome handles perimeter. Only our men.”
Silence followed. Just the hum of the city through bulletproof glass. The kind of silence that was heavier than the fight.
Because Crow blood didn’t mean rest. It meant tomorrow was already there. And the port wasn’t just business, it was legacy.
Rome grabbed his jacket. “Night.”
“Try and get some sleep tonight, Rome.”
He flipped me the finger as he walked off. We all knew where he was headed, and it sure as fuck wasn’t his bed. Where he should have been going.
That woman was going to lead him down a path that would cost all of us.
Luca set the bat down on the counter, dried, then poured whiskey. Handed one to me without a word.
I took it, but caught his eyes. They lingered on the phone facedown on the counter, screen still glowing through the glass.
There were worse things than taking a beating in the street. Worse than bleeding under Villain’s red neon lights.
It was watching the girl you loved online, living like you’d never existed. Having no idea you still cared.
And waiting, night after night, for her to return to Villain.
I drained the glass, letting the burn hit harder than the bruises.
Because bruises faded.
But waiting like that?
It carved.
Three years, and she hadn’t come to the city.
Three years of ports, syndicate wars, dynasty meetings, blood spilled. None of it filled the space she left behind.
She was breathing air that wasn’t mine. Lifting a glass that wasn’t handed by us. Sleeping without my hand on her thigh, and Luca hand on her waist.
The world thought we’d expanded an empire in those years. That we had risen as expected.
Truth was, we’d starved.
