Page 104 of Forged

She swats my chest. “I can’t believe you did that on your trip to Europe. Fuck, Lars, we can fight wars here, but you almost started an international crisis with that one.”

“Yeah, not my best moment.” I chuckle and then I look into her eyes. “Thank you, Vi. Not just for this, but for everything. Thank you for loving me.”

She pats my cheek. “Bambino, I’ll always love you. You’re my favorite person in the whole world and I’ll move mountains to see you happy.”

I give her a suspicious look. “I thought Zara was your favorite?”

She waves her hand in the air. “I just say that so she’ll give me more grandchildren.” She leans toward me, whispering, “But you’re my true favorite.”

“Poor Enzo.” I laugh.

“That boy knows I love him. But speaking of Enzo, if you’re planning on keeping Gabriel around, you should tell him about this man. Not only because he’s your brother, but because you could be bringing him into the fold.”

I nod. “I know.”

She sighs. “Okay then, I’m sure you have work to do, and I need to get dressed for the day. Calvin is going to drive me into the city for a bit of shopping.”

“How you’ve managed to retain Calvin as your driver for the past ten years, I’ll never understand with the way you boss him around.”

She laughs. “At this point, I’m pretty sure he likes it.”

Morning settlesover Chicago in a gray-blue haze that clings to the river outside my windows. The city is already moving—traffic threading across the bridges, commuters spilling from the trains—but my apartment feels unusually quiet. I stand at the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, one hand braced against the marble.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting the memory of last night settle over me. Lars drifting so easily into my proximity when I pulled him close. There hadn’t been any uncertainty in the way he touched me, no hesitation in the way his mouth met mine. Just heat and confidence.

The last of the water flows through the grounds in the ceramic pour-over dripper. I remove it, set it in the sink and take that glorious first sip. Dark, hot, and black perfection. I lean against the counter, staring out at the river as the steam curls upward.

Something about last night shifted the ground beneath my feet.

For most of my adult life I’ve treated relationships the sameway I treat cities. I pass through them, enjoy what they offer, and move on before anything becomes complicated. It’s a clean system. It’s safe.

Last night didn’t feel safe.

I take another sip of coffee and carry the mug to my desk in my office. I open my laptop and wake the system. Within seconds the encrypted messaging program lights up.

A new notification blinks across the screen. I sit down and open the message.

Snake Charmer:New information. Review immediately.

An attachment appears beneath the text.

I download the file and open it, the screen filling with a complex grid of architectural schematics. The Marchetti estate spreads across the display in precise digital lines. Corridors, structural support systems, camera placements, and access routes layered over one another in meticulous detail.

It’s the blueprints to the house.

I zoom in, scrolling slowly across the estate’s layout. The main house appears, followed by the auxiliary structures. The security system is extensive but predictable. Motion sensors, security posts, and camera rotations. Restricted zones marked clearly.

Then something catches my eye. One wing of the estate doesn’t match the rest. I lean closer to the screen, studying the area more carefully.

The architectural footprint exists, but it’s just a box, the internal walls are missing. Camera coverage ends abruptly at the corridor entrances. Infrastructure schematics fade into blank space.

It’s not an oversight. It’s a blind spot.

I enlarge the section and trace the perimeter with my cursor. Whoever designed this system deliberately limited access to thedesign of that wing. The lack of documentation creates a vacuum in the data that only one type of facility would justify.

This has to be the server room. My pulse slows as the conclusion settles into place.

And that’s where The Blackwater Key lives.