Chapter 4 - The Spider’s Web
“You can’t just walk in there,” Tessa said, struggling to sit up straight on the sofa. The compression wrap around her ribs held her together, but the sharp ache flared with every sudden movement. “They think you’re dead! There will be dozens of armed men!”
“Forty-two, to be exact,” Vincent replied smoothly, checking the action on a compact submachine gun before placing it into an unassuming leather duffel. “The Blackwood Club has twelve private security guards on the main floor, eight on the VIP mezzanine, and the Romano family will bring at least twenty of their personal soldiers as an escort. Lorenzo will have his personal detail.”
“That’s forty-two against one!” Tessa’s voice climbed an octave. “Are you suicidal?”
“Matteo will be waiting in the underground garage with an armored transport,” Vincent said, completely unbothered by the odds. “And I do not plan on walking through the front door to have a polite conversation.”
Matteo stepped forward, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, his expression grim. “Vincent, she’s right. Your motor skills are at eighty percent after three days of localized muscle relaxants. If your timing is off by half a second against Romano’s hitters, you’ll be dead before you clear the foyer.”
Vincent stopped. He turned slowly, his imposing silhouette casting a long shadow across the bunker.
“If I don’t show up tonight, Lorenzo signs the transfer agreements,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a deadly, rhythmic cadence. “By tomorrow morning, the Romano syndicate will control the port authorities, the fuel terminals, and every supply line in the northeast. Once they have that leverage, they will purge every capo loyal to the Costa name. They won’t just kill me. They will hunt down everyone who ever worked in this house.”
His dark eyes flicked toward Tessa.
“Including the kitchen staff. Including you.”
Tessa swallowed hard. The harsh reality of his world slammed into her like physical weight. In the grand estates of the powerful, collateral damage wasn't an accident; it was standard procedure.
“Then don’t fight them head-on,” Tessa blurted out.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Tessa stood up, wincing as her ribs protested, but she kept her footing. She walked slowly toward the table where the layout schematics of the city were spread out.
“You said it yourself—they think you’re dead,” Tessa said, her mind racing. “Camila and Lorenzo are walking into that club expecting an easy victory. They’re arrogant. I’ve watched your fiancée for three years, Mr. Costa. When she thinks she’s winning, she gets sloppy. She leaves her phone on tables, she talks loudly, she treats everyone around her like invisible furniture.”
Vincent watched her closely. “Go on.”
“The Blackwood Club uses staff from the same private agency that manages your household events,” Tessa explained, pointing a bruised finger at the schematic of the downtown club. “My cousin Marco works the freight elevator and banquet staging at Blackwood. Every Thursday night, they bring in the luxury catering through the service tunnel on Commerce Street to avoid the paparazzi and the street patrols.”
Matteo’s eyes widened. “The service tunnel bypasses the metal detectors at the VIP entrance.”
“Marco wouldn't help a mobster,” Tessa said, turning her fierce gaze onto Vincent. “He hates your syndicate as much as I do. But he loves me. If I tell him I need a cart brought to the executive floor without questions, he’ll do it.”
Vincent took a slow step toward her. The air between them grew charged, heavy with an electric tension that had nothing to do with violence.
“You’re offering to help me?” Vincent asked quietly. “An hour ago, you wished I had choked on that assassin’s bullet.”
“I don’t care about your empire, Vincent,” Tessa said, using his first name for the first time. The sound of it seemed to hang in the air between them. “I care about justice. Lorenzo ruined my brother’s life and laughed about it in your library. Camila kicked my bucket, insulted my family, and ordered an execution in cold blood. I want to see their faces when they realize they haven't won.”
A slow, terrifyingly beautiful smile touched the corners of Vincent’s mouth. It was the first time Tessa had seen him smile, and it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
“You have iron in your spine, little maid,” Vincent murmured.
“Don’t call me that,” she shot back, her chin lifting defiantly. “My name is Tessa.”
“Tessa,” Vincent repeated, tasting the syllables. “If you come with me, there is no going back. If a single shot goes astray, you could die.”
“I almost died an hour ago with a sponge in my hand,” she retorted. “If I’m going down, I’d rather do it while taking Lorenzo’s kingdom away from him.”
Vincent turned to Matteo. “Get her out of that uniform. Find something dark, utilitarian, and clean from the safe house armory. And call your contacts in the city power grid.”
“What are you planning, Vincent?” Matteo asked, already moving toward the storage bins.
Vincent pulled a sleek, encrypted detonator remote from his pocket and set it beside the club schematics.
May you like
“Lorenzo wants to turn my funeral into a coronation,” Vincent said softly. “It’s only fair that I provide the fireworks.”
***
