Page 36 of Fall Before Her Throne

“Me neither,” I said. “I’ve never been, but the Five Families used to meet here. I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“Worse,” Obi said as he turned off the engine. “Greco is making a point.”

He glanced in the rearview, his eyes softening slightly as he saw my hand folded against Wynn’s and Ciel’s palm on my thigh. The two of them were practically smothering me with their nervousness, but it helped to calm my racing heart.

Inside that building waited Piero Greco and the forces of the Camorra. Would they try an amicable takeover or a hostile one?

“This is definitely a trap,” Max mumbled from the back row.

“Oh, for sure,” I answered. Ciel’s hand tightened on my thigh, but he didn’t respond.

“We should leave,” Max insisted, leaning forward. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

I needed to see Greco face to face. It was silly to hope he’d back off just because I wouldn’t back down, but truly, I wasn’t afraid of walking into that building. The six—seven of us now—could handle ourselves.

I was more nervous about what his meeting signified. It was bound to be the kickoff to a conflict, a bloody war the likes of which New York hadn’t seen for decades.

Ryu glanced at his phone. “Kostya is in place a few blocks away. He’ll wait for the signal if we need it.”

“Giulio is waiting, too,” Cas said. “He’ll be looking for our check in signal. He’s got our men primed for a fight.”

Our allies and our men would be nearby if we needed them. I hoped this wouldn’t devolve into a bloodbath, even though Obi looked more on edge than I’d ever seen him—and one day, his careful control would snap.

“What about Enzo Rossi?” I asked.

Cas tucked his phone into his pocket. “He’s not about to let the Camorra steamroll his territory. He said if we’ll still watch his back, he’ll still watch ours.”

“We will.” I turned in my seat to look at him. “Rossi has more aces up his sleeve than we know. I can feel it.”

“I think so, too,” Cas agreed. “He’s smart, and he’s careful.”

I cast a glance at Max. “Max, what do you think about Sandrini?”

Max stared out the window, hands clenched on his knees. “Sandrini will roll over to Greco immediately. He’s always flocked to the stronger Heads of the Five Families. He does what he’s told, and that’s how he stays in power.”

I looked back at Obi. “If he does what he’s told, think we can turn him?”

Obi shook his head. “Not once the Camorra get their claws in him. They’ll absorb him, his men, and his territory.”

“Great,” I said with a huff before I glanced at the clock on my phone. “We’ll monitor him then and assume he already supports Greco. That leaves us and Rossi against them both.”

“It’s time,” Obi said. “Everyone ready?”

We discussed going in guns blazing, killing Greco before he reacted, but there was no knowing yet how many men he had at his disposal, and it was simply too risky. We’d play this safe unless they struck first.

“Ready,” I answered, followed by each one of my men.

Greco’s men were waiting for us when we got inside the restaurant. There were no patrons, no staff. Just five men waiting in a front alcove by the host desk and seven more lurking in the eerie quiet blanketing the rest of an empty dining room.

“Signorina,” one said, a heavy Italian accent dripping from his words. “Please leave your weapons here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“No arms are allowed inside the meeting.” He straightened his back. “We will return them to you after the meeting concludes.”

“Absolutely not,” I snapped. My men stepped up behind me, backing me up and forming a disapproving wall that said if you want them, take them from us.