Chapter 2
The patio fell into a vacuum of total, suffocating silence. Beside the pergola, forty yards away, several capos paused mid-conversation, their eyes darting toward the water.
Cassandro did not turn his head. His gaze remained pinned to the faded blue plastic on his daughter’s wrist. His breathing was so slow, so controlled, that the lapels of his soaked suit barely shifted.
"What did you say, Audrey?" Cassandro asked, his voice low and measured, each syllable dropping like lead onto the limestone.
"She gave it to me under the floor," Audrey snuffled, wiping water from her rosy nose with the wet cuff of her cardigan. "She said don't let Auntie take it. She said she’s still sleeping downstairs."
"She’s hallucinating, Cassandro!"
The voice barked from the dining room threshold. Damian Hale strode forward across the terrace, his bespoke summer blazer pulled tight across his broad shoulders, his luxury chronograph flashing in the sun. At forty, Vivienne’s older brother carried himself with the bloated confidence of an associate who believed his sister’s marriage had granted him immunity within the Moretti syndicate.
Damian charged directly at Cassandro, reaching out with both hands. He grabbed the wet wool of Cassandro’s lapels and shoved hard, attempting to force the Don away from the child.
"She’s confused!" Damian snapped, his voice furious and urgent. "The kid fell into the water and bumped her head! Give Vivienne the bracelet before she loses it in the skimmer!"
Cassandro took one single, controlled step backward to absorb the momentum. He did not drop Audrey. He did not blink.
He slowly lowered his eyes to Damian’s hands clutched against his chest.
"Remove your fingers from my coat, Damian," Cassandro said. The volume was little more than a whisper, yet it carried an arctic chill that made the nearby capos reach instinctively inside their suit jackets.
"You’re letting a traumatized toddler dictate family business!" Damian shouted, blinded by panic as he saw the capos gathering. He reared his right arm back, aiming a closed-fist punch straight at Cassandro’s shoulder. "Give me the damn bracelet!"
Cassandro didn't flinch.
With the seamless, economic grace of a seasoned street fighter, Cassandro dipped his shoulder, slipping effortlessly to the outside of Damian’s incoming strike. The displaced air brushed harmlessly past his collar.
Before Damian could recover his footing or pull his elbow back, Cassandro drove an explosive, short-range counterpunch directly across Damian’s jaw.
The crack of bone against knuckle sounded like a rifle shot across the open terrace.
The kinetic force spun Damian completely around. His feet left the flagstones as he crashed violently backward into the freestanding croquet-equipment rack stationed beside the cabana.
The heavy wooden frame folded sideways with a deafening screech of splintering pine. Solid oak mallets tumbled from their slots, clattering across the stone like thrown weapons. Padded canvas equipment bags burst open, spilling colorful wooden balls across the grass, lightweight steel hoops tumbled outward, and Damian crashed straight through the collapsing lower support, groaning in the dirt as blood poured from his shattered mouth.
Not a single soul moved to help him.
Behind Cassandro, Vivienne’s eyes flared with manic, cornered desperation. Seeing her brother broken on the lawn, she lunged straight for Audrey’s wrist, her red-tipped nails clawing for the faded blue band.
May you like
"Give that to me, you little brat!" Vivienne shrieked.
Cassandro didn't turn around completely. His left hand shot backward, his fingers clamping around Vivienne’s wrist with hydraulic force, tearing her hand cleanly away from his daughter.
