The silence in the back room of Café Nate wasn't the quiet of peace; it was the absolute, breathless stillness before a lightning strike.

Marcus hauled Vittorio to his feet, shoving him back into his chair. Vittorio’s lip was split, a thin line of crimson trickling down his chin. He glared at me, the mask of the loyal soldier completely stripped away, replaced by a bitter, snarling defiance.

"You think you're untouchable, Dante?" Vittorio spat, wiping blood from his mouth. "You sit on your throne, smoking imported cigars, while the North District rots. You didn't see the shifts in power. You didn't see the Syndicate buying up every block from here to the harbor."

"So you sold your loyalty to the Syndicate?" I asked, leaning against the edge of the table. The puppy, Bruno, whimpered softly, and I automatically reached out a hand to stroke his fuzzy black head, keeping my eyes locked on Vittorio. "Who’s the buyer, Vittorio? Who bought my shadow?"

Vittorio laughed—a harsh, manic sound. "You'll find out soon enough. And you won't like it. The girl's mother? Dr. Clara O’Shea? She wasn't just a random target. She was working on something at the municipal pharmaceutical labs. Something the Syndicate needed erased. And Vittorio here? He was just doing a little freelance cleanup on the side."

Elena clutched the hem of my jacket. "Where is she? Where is my mommy?"

I looked down at the little girl. The pieces were aligning into a terrifying matrix. Clara O’Shea wasn't just a doctor; she was the lead toxicologist for the city water authority. If someone wanted to cripple the North District without firing a single bullet, poisoning the municipal supply was how you'd do it. And Clara must have found out.

Which meant she wasn't just kidnapped. She was a valuable hostage—and a walking liability.

"Vittorio," I said softly, pulling the silver pistol from my waistband and laying it flat on the table, right beside Bruno. "Where is she?"

"Go to hell, Dante."

I didn't blink. I didn't raise my voice. I simply looked at Marcus. "Take him to the basement. Break his fingers one by one until he gives me an address. If he runs out of fingers, start on his teeth."

As Marcus and Luca dragged a screaming Vittorio down the stairwell, the heavy iron door slammed shut, cutting off his shrieks.

The back room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Only me, Elena, and a shivering black puppy remained.

I knelt down so I was eye-to-eye with her once more. Her lower lip was trembling violently. She had witnessed violence today that no seven-year-old soul should ever have to witness.

"You're brave, Elena," I said, my voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Braver than most men twice your age."

"Are you going to kill him?" she whispered, staring at the closed basement door.

"I'm going to find your mother," I answered truthfully. "And anyone who stood in the way of that happening is going to wish they had never drawn breath."

Before she could reply, my encrypted satellite phone buzzed violently in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen flashed an incoming video call from an unknown, heavily encrypted overseas proxy.

I hit accept.