Page 98 of Masked Don

It is.

The front room goes quiet.

Then footsteps in the hall, unhurried, and a voice I’ve heard in every nightmare I’ve had for five years.

“You’ll break an ankle jumping out that window, Stevie. And then where would we be?”

Luca fills the doorway, two men with rifles behind him. There’s blood on the cuff of his good coat, and none of it is his. He looks at me, at my son, at the open window and the men waiting under it, and he smiles the way he used to smile right before.

“Hello, Bunny,” he says. “Did you miss me?”

Then his eyes drop to Matthew, and stay there.

He looks at my son for a long moment. At the dark hair. At the eyes. At the grave way Matthew looks back at him over the rabbit’s ears.

“I had a guess,” Luca says softly. “Four years old. The Accardi face. Enzo’s little houseguest he never lets out of the garden.” A slow, delighted smile spreads across his face. “But I wasn’t sure until right now.” He crouches, eye level with my son. “Hello, little Accardi.”

Matthew presses his face into the rabbit. I have never wanted to kill anyone before. I want to now.

“How did you find us?” My voice comes out steadier than I have any right to.

“Somebody always talks.” He leans on the doorframe like he owns it. “Somebody always has their own reasons. You, of all people, should know running isn’t that easy.”

“Pyke…”

“Was very good at his job.” Luca glances back toward the front room with something like professional appreciation. “Took two of mine with him. You want to see? I can arrange it.”

I don’t look. I won’t give him that.

“You know what tonight is, Stevie?” He steps into the room. “Tonight, every family in New York finds out what Enzo Accardi really is. The old men want to know if he’s strong enough to hold his father’s chair?” He spreads his hands. “I’m going to show them. Live. On every phone at every table in this city. Enzo on his knees, begging me for a waitress and her brat.”

“He won’t beg.”

“He will. And then I’ll take everything he has, and the old men will hand it to me, because that’s how it works. The strong take. The weak kneel. They’ve just forgotten, because they’ve been watching Accardis sit in that chair for too long.”

“You’re doing all this,” I say, “because a man in a mask embarrassed you at a party.”

His jaw flexes. “Careful.”

“No. You’re a spoiled little boy with a lot of money and a lot of guns, and the only thing you’ve ever been good at is hurting people smaller than you.” I lift my chin. “So go ahead. Show the whole city.”

For one long second, I think he’s going to hit me.

Instead, he smiles. It’s worse.

“God, I missed that mouth,” he says softly. “It’s going to be such a pleasure, shutting it.” He nods to his men. “Take them. The kid stays with her. Search her.”

Rough hands pat me down from shoulder to ankle. They take my keys. They take the hair tie off my wrist, for God’s sake. One of them reaches for the rabbit in Matthew’s arms, and Matthew screams, a sound I’ve never heard him make, high and furious and enormous, and wraps himself around Mr. Bun like a small wild animal.

The man jerks his hand back.

“Leave the kid his toy,” Luca says, bored. “I don’t want to listen to that for three hours. Phone. Where’s your phone, Stevie?”

“In the lake.” I don’t blink. “I threw it off the dock when I heard the first shot.”

He studies me for a long second. Then he laughs. “Smart girl. Doesn’t matter. He’ll get my messages.”

I hold my son, and my son holds the rabbit, and they march us out through the front room.