Chapter Six #2
Attached to the pot is a small card. My hands are steady as they pluck it free, open it.
Such a pretty flower shop. Would be a shame if something happened to it.
No signature. No need for one.
Greco.
The message is clear, they know about Elena. Know about her shop. Know exactly where to find her if they want to hurt me.
“Dante.” My voice is eerily calm despite the rage building like a tsunami beneath the surface. “Move up the timeline. We go tonight. Nineteen hundred hours.”
“Boss, that’s three hours from now. The men won’t be in position—”
“Then they better move fast.” Each word is clipped, controlled. “And double the security on Elena’s shop. No one gets within a block of Petals & Pines without our people knowing. Am I clear?”
“Crystal. What about her? Should we warn her?”
Should Elena know that she’s officially become a target? That someone sent a threatening plant, a plant, the irony would be funny if it weren’t so horrifying, to make sure the message was received?
“Not yet. She’ll panic, and I need her calm until we can neutralize this threat.” The lie tastes bitter. This isn’t about keeping her calm, it’s about protecting myself from seeing the fear in her eyes when she realizes exactly what being with me means.
Dante leaves to coordinate, and the poinsettia sits on my desk like an accusation. Its blood-red leaves catch the afternoon light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, beautiful and menacing in equal measure.
My phone buzzes again. Elena: You stopped responding. Everything okay?
No. Nothing is okay. Someone is threatening the one good thing in my life, and all the money and power and fear my name commands can’t change the fact that loving me puts her in danger.
Loving. There’s that word again.
Everything’s fine. Just got pulled into a meeting. I’ll text you later.
Okay. Stay safe, Shadow.
Shadow. I told her my nickname for me, and she’s claimed it and says it with affection instead of fear. Like she’s tamed the monster, turned something dark into something she can laugh about.
But shadows can’t protect anything. They can only watch while the light gets extinguished.
The next three hours pass in a blur of preparation. Weapons checked, teams briefed, exit strategies mapped. Paulo coordinates the surveillance teams. Dante handles the tactical elements. Marco oversees the entire operation with the grim efficiency that’s made him invaluable.
The men who’ll be staying behind to guard Elena’s shop are given explicit instructions, anything moves toward Petals & Pines, you eliminate the threat first and ask questions never.
At eighteen hundred hours, Marco appears in my office doorway. “Teams are in position. We’re ready when you are.”
“Give me five minutes.”
He nods and retreats. Alone again, my fingers hover over my phone. One last text to Elena before walking into whatever tonight brings.
I meant what I said in your apartment. I’m falling for you too.
The response comes almost immediately: Past tense. I’ve already fallen.
Three words. Eight syllables. And they rearrange something fundamental in my chest, some piece of armor I’ve worn so long forgot it was there.
Then I’ll catch you.
Promise?
Promise.
The lie comes easy because what else can be done? Promise her safety in a world where safety doesn’t exist? Promise her a future when tomorrow might bring bullets or bombs or any number of creative ways Greco could choose to hurt me?
All I can be offer are lies wrapped in good intentions and the cold comfort that anyone who touches her will die screaming.
It will have to be enough.
Standing, the desk is cleared of everything except the blood-red poinsettia. One more look at Greco’s message, at the threat disguised as a gift, then the pot is lifted and carried to the window.
Thirty stories down, the city spreads out like a kingdom.
My kingdom. Built on blood and fear and the weight of family legacy.
Somewhere down there, Elena is closing her shop, maybe thinking about the soup she made, probably wondering why her mob boss boyfriend is being cagey about his evening plans.
She deserves better than this. Better than me.
But selfish men don’t give up what they want, and the Shadow has never been anything but selfish.
The window opens, bulletproof glass sliding aside to let in the December cold, and the poinsettia is dropped. It falls, pot and all, thirty stories down to shatter on the concrete below.
A message for a message.
You want to threaten what’s mine? Then watch what happens when The Shadow stops playing nice.
“Marco,” the call goes out without turning from the window. “Tell the teams we’re moving now. And Marco?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“No survivors at the drug house. No mercy. No quarter. They threatened her, so they all burn.”
His voice comes back hard with approval. “Understood.”
My men file out to their assigned vehicles, their designated targets, their roles in tonight’s carefully orchestrated violence. Soon it’s just me, alone with the city lights and the cold wind and the certainty that after tonight, there’s no going back.
Greco wanted a war? He’ll get one.
But wars have casualties, and the thought of Elena becoming one makes something primitive and vicious uncoil in my chest. Something that wants to tear Greco apart with my bare hands, wants to paint the streets red with anyone who’d dare look at her wrong, wants to burn the entire criminal underworld to ash if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.
The phone buzzes one more time. Elena: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Alessandro.
Sleep. As if sleep were possible with her face in my mind and blood about to be on my hands and the knowledge that tomorrow, when she shows up with soup, a plant and that dimpled smile, lies will be told.
Pretend nothing happened. Pretend normal.
Pretend the man she’s falling for isn’t currently orchestrating the destruction of an entire criminal operation.
You too, tesoro. Sweet dreams.
The phone goes dark. The city glitters below. And Alessandro De Luca, The Shadow, walks into the darkness to do what shadows do best, eliminate threats before they can reach the light.
Because Elena Harper deserves to live in the sunshine, surrounded by flowers and Christmas lights and the belief that people can be honest and real.
Even if the man she’s falling for is neither.
Especially because of that.
The elevator descends. The war begins. And somewhere in the distance, a blood-red poinsettia lies shattered on the concrete, a promise and a warning wrapped in broken pottery.
They threatened what’s mine.
Now they’ll learn why people cross the street to avoid The Shadow.
Now they’ll learn what happens when you bring winter to a man who’s finally found his spring.