Page 153 of Forged

Lars steps out first, his presence unmistakable even from across the street. There’s confidence in the way he moves, something unshakable in the set of his shoulders. The city lights catch along the lines of his suit as he rounds the back of the vehicle, his attention already shifting toward the passenger side.

The door opens, and Neomi steps out.

The sight of her hits so hard it feels physical. But it always does. There’s no preparing for it, no numbing the reaction no matter how many times I’ve told myself I should be past this by now. She looks exactly as she always has—radiant and alive in a way that makes everything else fade away.

Her dress catches the light with each step, the deep emerald fabric moving with quiet elegance as the breeze lifts a few strands of her hair. Lars’ hand settles at the small of her back, and when she looks at him, the expression on her face carries a softness that speaks of something unbroken between them.

It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need to be hidden or explained. I miss how they used to look at me the same way. I force myself to look away.

Diverting my attention, I scan the street, shifting intosomething more useful. The sidewalk across the intersection is crowded, a steady flow of movement that blends guests arriving for the event with the ordinary rhythm of the city. Security is already in place, six men positioned near the entrance, another stationed farther down the block beside a dark SUV. Their posture is alert, their presence subtle enough to pass unnoticed by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

A dark blue car rolls slowly toward the curb half a block away, its movement just out of sync enough with everything else to gain my attention. It stops more abruptly than it should, the engine idling as the rear passenger door opens.

A man steps out and even with the distance, there’s no mistaking who it is.

It’s Anthony Falco.

The realization settles a fraction of a second before the situation unravels.

He moves with sudden intent, crossing the sidewalk with a speed that cuts through the carefully maintained order of the evening. Neomi turns toward him just as he reaches her, the moment of recognition flashing across her face before he closes the distance completely.

His arm hooks around her shoulders from behind, pulling her hard against his chest as the gun appears in his hand, the barrel pressed firmly against the side of her head.

Suddenly, voices rise, sharp and startled. Guests stumble backward, heels clacking, conversations collapsing into confusion. Security moves fast, Zara is pulled into the building, weapons are drawn and the men take position, but Falco tightens his hold, dragging Neomi closer as the gun presses harder against her temple.

“Everyone stay exactly where you are!” he shouts, his voice cutting through the noise with brutal clarity.

The street stills in response.

Lars turns toward them, his entire body going rigid.

“Let her go, Falco,” he says, his voice edged with anger as he draws his gun.

Falco’s laugh is harsh, devoid of anything resembling humor. “You think I came here to negotiate? Put your fucking gun down, Marchetti.”

Neomi goes still in his grip, her eyes wide and filled with fear as Lars lowers his weapon.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Falco?” Enzo bellows.

Falco’s voice is menacing. “The time for the Marchetti Syndicate ruling Chicago is over, Enzo. You might have taken Zara from me, but now, my numbers are growing. You got the whore, but I’m taking the city.”

Neomi’s eyes close tight as Anthony adjusts his grip on her. Enzo laughs, stepping forward, unarmed.

“Do you honestly think that you will gain favor in this city with your given history?” His voice is filled with disgust. “Falco, look at yourself, you have the Marchetti Don and number two just feet away and you choose to threaten one of our women.”

Enzo takes another step forward, and I see the anger rising in Falco’s eyes.

“You are a weak man. The people of this city will never give you their loyalty. Your organization will bleed men when they realize that you lead through fear instead of power.”

“Fuck off, Marchetti!” Anthony shouts, causing Neomi to sob.

Falco’s manic eyes sweep the street, sharp and searching. For a brief second, I think they might land on me.

My pulse spikes, my grip tightening on the wheel as instinct flares within me. Falco’s body is blocked by Neomi’s, leaving no clean shot from Enzo’s men positioned near the entrance. Any attempt from their angle risks hitting her.

From where I am, the line is clear and I know what I need to do. I take my gun from my console and I begin to move.

I step out of the car, the night air hitting my skin as the doorswings open. The cool metal of the gun in my hand is grounding. Across the street, Lars’s attention shifts, his gaze snapping toward my movement.