Divine Obsession (GodHood #2)

Chapter 30

Present

There was something comforting about Little Italy in the spring. The air felt lighter, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and the faint sweetness of cannoli from the vendors lining the streets.

This neighborhood had been my sanctuary long before I knew what the word even meant. Back then, it was just a corner of the city where Maria and I could sit and dream about lives bigger than the ones we’d been handed.

Il Piccolo Moretti had been a constant through it all. I’d never thought much about the name. We’d been eating at the same corner table since we were kids, sharing plates of pasta and stolen moments of laughter.

Only years later had I learned the truth – it was my father’s restaurant. Which also served as a mob meet-up spot.

It was strange how life had a way of tying loose threads when you least expected it. When Maria disappeared, I never thought I’d get the chance to tell her about reuniting with my family. But when she came back two years ago, we laid everything bare – her years away, my sudden plunge into a world I barely understood. She’d tilted her head, her expression unreadable, before muttering, Guess we were always closer to that world than we thought.

Across from me, Maria laughed at a story I’d just gotten done telling. Her laughter was genuine, full of life. I was happy she was happy.

The waitress, Miss Gloria, approached as we stood from the table. She had been here for as long as I could remember, her warm smile unchanged by time. She still looked amazing, neither Maria nor I could believe she was thirty-six.

“You girls heading out already?” She asked, wiping her hands on her aprons.

“You know we’ll be back next month. We always are.”

Gloria’s smile faltered, her eyes softening as she looked at Maria. “You better. Don’t go disappearing on us again, angelita . You know how much we missed you last time.”

Maria’s expression didn’t shift, her voice steady as she stepped forward, wrapping her in a hug. “Never again, Miss Gloria. I promise.”

Gloria turned to me, her face brightening. “And you, Natalia – don’t let her out of your sight, sí? ”

I nodded with a soft smile. “Of course. See you soon.”

Gloria seemed satisfied with that.

“She cares about you,” I said simply, as we headed toward the exit of the restaurant.

A small smile tipped Maria’s lips. “She’s always been good to us.”

“Where to next?” I asked, wrapping a pink cashmere scarf around my neck.

Maria tilted her head as she pushed open the restaurant’s door, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “Let’s find some trouble.”

The slick black Ferrari caught my eye as Maria and I stepped onto the sidewalk, its glossy surface gleaming under the midday sun. Trevor sat inside, the passenger’s side window down, his hand resting lazily on the wheel. He looked the same as ever; unbothered, detached, and far too comfortable.

He wasn’t supposed to see me for another two hours.

Maria noticed him at the same time, her face brightening with an easy smile. “Nice car.”

She had no idea who Trevor really was to me or what kind of history we shared. To her, he was just Kali’s brother who I was working with on some coding job, his fancy car matching the crisp image he presented.

“Thanks.” His voice was smooth, practiced, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. “Need a ride?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got somewhere to be.” She turned to me, pulling me into a hug. I held on for a beat longer than usual, wishing she didn’t have to leave.

“Bye, babe,” I said softly. “Call me when you get home.”

“I will. Promise.” Maria stepped back, shooting me a reassuring grin before glancing at Trevor again. “Good luck!” She called, waving as she turned to head down the street.

I watched her for a moment, the sound of her footsteps fading into the hum of the city around us. With a sharp exhale, I turned back to the car and opened the passenger door, sliding in.

The interior was exactly what I expected; sleek, spotless, and expensive in a way that almost dared you to breathe wrong inside it.

“You still drive a Ferrari,” I muttered, glancing around and pulling on the seatbelt as he pulled off the curb.

“Newer model since the last time I gave you a ride.”

When he leaned in and lowered his head to me, leaving a few inches between us, I leaned in too, brushing my lips to the corner of his mouth. “Mhm…”

“Mhm?” Turning his head, Trevor caught my bottom lip between his, kissing me with the sweetest pull.

I shoved the thoughts aside, reaching for something less loaded to latch onto.

“You mean coerced me into getting in by threatening an innocent,” I mumbled, leaning back in the comfortable leather seat.

The first time I got into his car was when he picked me up on the way to campus and went full-on jock, threatening to beat up some guy from one of my classes if I didn’t get in.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Still think I should’ve beat that clown up.”

I glanced at him. “You remember that?”

His jaw ticked; hands tightening briefly on the wheel.

There was something about the way he carried himself and spoke with such poise yet intensity you knew he never had to repeat himself. His eyes appeared disinterested yet warmed my skin with a restrained flame as if he was holding back. He aimed for an imperturbable character – for obvious reasons – but I saw every fragment of emotion inside him. He was like the flame of a lighter; composed enough to draw you in, hot enough to burn your skin off.

It had everything to do with all the lives he’d taken to get to where he was.

It was written all over him – the faint outline of a Glock under his suit; the faint scars on his knuckles; the way crowds split like the red fucking sea at his feet.

“I remember everything about us.” His voice was lower, rougher. “ And what we did in that car.”

The heat rushed to my face before I could stop it. I turned my head quickly to the window, watching the streets of Little Italy blur into SoHo.

Of course, he remembered .

Trevor Su wasn’t the kind of person who forgot. Every moment, every word, every touch we’d shared – it all stayed with him.

And no matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise, it had stayed with me too.

The atmosphere in one of Renato’s private offices was nothing short of rich – luxurious black leather chairs, dark-brown walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

The room felt too quiet for the storm brewing between Trevor and me. We’d been working for the past hour, but neither had spoken much beyond the necessary exchanges about the job.

I sat at the sleek glass table, my laptop open in front of me, eyes scanning the green coding data on the screen. Trevor, across from me, was typing incredibly fast with only one hand, while the other covered his mouth, supporting his head.

His focus filled the silence.

But underneath it, I could feel the pressure; tension that had been building ever since we set foot in the damn room. There was something suffocating about the way he barely glanced at me, like he was deliberately avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

Like we were both pretending that everything wasn’t just… Hanging in the air between us.

“There’s something off about this,” I muttered, more to myself than to him, clicking through the lines of code in front of me. My mind whirred, piecing together the details.

Trevor didn’t answer immediately. I could tell he was going over the same data, probably seeing the same patterns that I had.

“Yeah,” He finally replied, his voice low and guarded. “Identical attacks. Same method, same wiring destination.”

I leaned forward, scrolling through the security logs. “It’s too clean. These aren’t just random cyberattacks. They’re coordinated.”

His gaze burned me for a second before he spoke again. “The timing’s what’s getting me. Salvatore’s assets were frozen at the exact same time Richard’s were. Not a millisecond off. Coincidences don’t work like that.”

I met his eyes briefly. “Then the accounts…” I trailed off as I clicked on a different set of files. The traces of money movement were unmistakable. It was almost too good of a setup. “Look at this. The funds – frozen and drained into the same dummy accounts. Routed through the same international banks.”

Trevor leaned in slightly, squinting at the screen. His jaw ticked, and for a moment, I saw the familiar intensity flash in his eyes. “They’re covering their tracks. But it’s too obvious. The transfers, the routes… Whoever’s behind this wanted us to see it.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his usual confidence replaced by something more calculating. “This isn’t just a simple financial hit. Someone’s making a statement. And if we can’t figure out who, it’s going to turn into a bigger problem than either of us expected.”

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. I glanced at Trevor, fully focused on the data, his mind clearly working through the possibilities.

My frustration grew in my chest, suffocating the air around me. “You’re right. But what happens next? We can follow these leads all we want, but at the end of the day, I need more answers for my father, Trevor.”

He exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated too. “We’re both in the dark here, Natalia. Don’t act like this is just my problem. We’ll figure it out together.”

Together.

I felt my jaw tighten at the word.

The audacity to even use that word after everything he–

I bit back the retort. The last thing I needed was to argue about him leaving again.

Turning back to the screen and watching the green cyber data flow across the screen in an endless parade of numbers and encryption, I still couldn’t shake off the feeling that we were walking in a maze, and every step we took was leading us deeper into a trap.

I rubbed my temples, mumbling, “Great. More questions, no answers.”

Trevor sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ll find whoever’s behind this.”

I didn’t look at him as I nodded.

I wasn’t sure how much I trusted him anymore, but I knew one thing for sure: Whoever was behind this attack was playing a dangerous game.

And I didn’t intend to let them win.

The air inside the mahjong parlor smelled of cigarette smoke, oolong tea, and old ghosts. Hidden behind a shabby herbal medicine shop, this place had been here for decades. The neon glow from the street barely made it through the dust-flecked windows, casting faded red streaks across the green-tiled tables.

I found him exactly where I expected.

Ojiisan sat at the farthest table, slowly shuffling mahjong tiles. The overhead light flickered, highlighting the deep lines on his face, carved by time and blood. His gray hair, slicked back, gave him the air of a man who had once ruled an empire and had no regrets about losing it.

I slid into the seat across from the old Yakuza Boss, resting my elbows on the jade-green table. “Thought you quit smoking,” I said, eyeing the lit cigarette between his fingers.

“I quit being the boss too, but old habits, hm?” His voice was a slow drag of gravel and whiskey.

I tapped the table, signaling to start the game. He nodded, moving with the ease of a man who had shuffled these tiles a million times before.

We played in silence for a while, the soft clinking of tiles filling the air. Outside, car horns blared. A woman laughed. Somewhere, in one of the back rooms, a dealer whispered to a client about tonight’s high-stakes game. The city breathed around us, oblivious to the power that once sat at this very table.

“Tell me why you’re really here, Kaito-san .” He flicked a tile onto the table – East Wind . “Not for my company, I assume.”

I leaned back, studying him. “Someone’s been hitting my family’s networks. It’s bad.”

His calm expression didn’t change. “And you think it’s my people?”

It wasn’t just the betrayal that stung. It was personal.

Four years ago, I’d left New York and gone to Tokyo because of the Yakuza. My uncle had been killed, his control over our family’s operations in Japan slipping into chaos. I’d spent four goddamn years clawing back respect for my family’s name, reasserting power in a world where strength was the only currency that mattered, only to come back to New York and deal with the same shit again.

“You were the only one disciplined enough to pull something like this off.” I let the weight of the words settle before I pushed a tile forward – Red Dragon . “But you’re not in the game anymore.”

Ojiisan nodded slowly. “You always were the sharp one. It’s not me. But I know who it probably is.” He reached for his tea and took a careful sip. “The new boss, Kazuo. He’s young. And young men make poor kings.” He set down another tile. “They burn their own houses down just to prove they own the fire.”

I exhaled slowly. “Why him?”

“I never had children, and the clan would not follow a ghost.” His lips pressed together. “Kazuo has blood, but no discipline. I did what I could before stepping away, but a man cannot lead wolves if he does not understand hunger.”

The weight in his voice told me everything. He knew what Kazuo was, but it was no longer his war to fight.

I picked up a tile – West Wind .

“You’re telling me to handle this myself.”

He gave a small shrug. “I’m telling you what is.”

Silence again. The game continued.

After a few more rounds, he placed his final tile down, and a soft smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “ Mahjong .”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I let you win.”

“Lying to an old man?” He crushed his cigarette into a jade ashtray. “Careful, Kaito-san . That’s how you lose your soul.”

I pushed back my chair, slipping my coat over my shoulders, before bowing my head in respect. “ Haisha moushiagemasu, Ojiisan-sama. Deha mata .” Thank you. See you soon.

He didn’t answer, just nodded as I disappeared into the neon-lit night, heading toward the storm I knew was coming.