The night air in the city had teeth. Andres tugged his jacket tighter as he leaned against his car, eyes locked on the figure slipping into the alley. Leo moved like a man with something to hide, shoulders hunched, glances sharp.
Andres muttered under his breath, chewing the toothpick in his mouth. Kid, if you're sneaking out for a late-night burger, I'm gonna be real disappointed.
But Leo wasn't heading for food.
Andres followed at a careful distance, keeping to the darker edges of the street until Leo disappeared into the mouth of the alley. A shadow shifted ahead — another man already waiting. Tall, broad-shouldered, but his face was hidden under the brim of his hat. The kind of man who looked more comfortable in darkness than light.
Andres crouched behind a rusted dumpster, sliding a small recorder from his pocket. He couldn't catch every word, but fragments carried through the still night.
"…you said my father—" Leo's voice, low, tight.
"…Vale… Dante… empire built on blood…" the shadow replied, calm as smoke.
Andres frowned, his grip tightening around the recorder. He leaned closer, heart pounding as the man's voice sharpened.
"…you will get close. She will trust you. That's how we'll break them."
Leo didn't answer right away. His silence spoke louder than words.
When the two finally parted, Leo's shoulders sagged as though he carried chains invisible to anyone else. He vanished down the other end of the alley, and Andres let out a slow breath, slipping back toward his car.
Hours later, Dante sat in his office, the blinds drawn, the room dim except for the glow of a single lamp. Andres tossed the recorder onto the desk.
"You're not gonna like this, boss."
Dante pressed play. The static hissed, followed by those broken pieces of conversation. Vale… Dante… built on blood. Then: She will trust you. That's how we'll break them.
The glass in Dante's hand stilled halfway to his lips. His jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his grip.
Andres leaned back, arms folded, eyes narrowing. "So the kid's not just confused. He's a damn pawn."
Silence stretched between them, heavy as concrete. Dante set the glass down without drinking. His eyes darkened, the weight of old ghosts pressing against his chest.
"Vale's name doesn't get whispered in alleys unless someone wants war," he said quietly.
Andres whistled low. "What's the play? You want me to bring the kid in, shake the truth out of him?"
Dante's gaze snapped up, sharp as steel. "No. Not yet. If we corner him too soon, Serena will defend him. She'll believe his lies over my truth."
"Then what?" Andres asked.
Dante leaned back in his chair, his expression hardening. "We watch. We listen. And when the time comes…" His hand closed into a fist on the desk. "…we cut the strings before the puppet turns on her."