Chapter 144
Dinner in that hole–in–the–wall joint with threadbare tablecloths. Lola arguing Casablanca like it was scripture, throwing Bogart quotes across the table with fire in her eyes. Her laugh–loud, unfiltered, genuine–still rang in his head, even now, forty–eight hours since the world had swallowed her whole.
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She got him. More than most ever tried to. She got his love for old films, his thing for books with spines falling apart, his dark jokes that made other people blink. She was smart, sharp, witty in ways that caught him off guard. She was rare.
And he loved her. Quietly. Fiercely. The kind of love he’d never let show, because Enzo was his brother in everything but blood and loyalty wasn’t a thing you bent for selfish want. But the truth sat there anyway, heavy in his chest.
If the world stole her now–if she was gone–then something in him would stay broken forever.
Nico’s hand flexed tight around the rifle in his lap, knuckles pale. His throat worked once, hard.
“Hold on, Lo,” he whispered, the words rasping raw in the dark cab. “Don’t you dare cut me off halfway through the story.”
Dom
The convoy sped through Vegas neon, sirens of their own engines tearing the night open. Dom sat stiff in the back seat, fingers digging into his knees hard enough to bruise.
San Diego kept replaying like a punishment reel. His turn with Lola. Enzo had wanted her shadowed at all times, the crew rotating like bodyguards disguised as boyfriends. Dom hadn’t wanted the job–he wasn’t the “fake date” type. He’d grumbled, dragged his feet, swore he’d rather take a bullet.
And then she’d looked at him, smirk tugging at her mouth like she knew every curse bottled in his throat, and slipped her arm through
his anyway.
She’d teased the hell out of him all day–mocking his taste in beer, stealing bites of his food, daring him to win her a stuffed shark at the pier. But she’d also asked questions. Listened. Made him talk about shit he never bothered voicing, like his dad teaching him cards or how he hated quiet dinners. She laughed at his worst jokes, didn’t flinch at his sharp edges, and by the end of the night she had him carrying her shoes like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He hadn’t said it then. Wouldn’t now. But he’d give anything to go back to that day. To dote on her properly. To let her know she wasn’t just tolerated in their orbit–she was the spark keeping it lit.
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The memory burned like acid now.
Dom glanced at Enzo in the lead SUV up ahead, and his chest twisted. Enzo would level the city to get her back. Dom swore to himself he’d be the fire at his side when he did.
He clenched his teeth, muttering under his breath to the empty seat beside him.
“You better not be gone, Lo. I still owe you that rematch at darts.”
Gino
Gino had seen Enzo fight wars. Seen him break men, bend empires, stare down whole cartels without blinking. His cousin was always iron -never rattled, never cracked.
11:01 Wed, Oct 8 M…
Not now.
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