Gino–Somewhere in Vegas. The Morning-ish After.

Gino woke up in a kiddie pool full of glow sticks. That wasn’t a metaphor. His mouth tasted like regret and battery acid. His eyes felt like someone had tie-dyed his corneas with glitter and sin; hair sticky. Why was it sticky? Was that frosting?

He sat up too fast. “Ow, fuck—”

Something crunched. A glow stick exploded blue across his thigh.

“Okay. Okay. Breathe. You’re alive. Probably.”

He looked around the trashed Airbnb.

People were snoring in corners. Someone had passed out face-down in a pizza. The walls were covered in neon body paint and what might’ve been… motivational quotes?

Ugh, I need to find Enzo and we need to get back. I’m sure mother hen Nico is freaking out by now.

But Enzo?

Nowhere.

Shit.

Gino stood up too fast and immediately had to sit back down. The floor tilted. Or he did.

Okay okay okay okay—

Where the fuck is Enzo.

He patted his pockets. No phone. No wallet. No dignity.

Then it hit him like a truck.

Burning Man.

The drinkable glitter.

The girl in the disco ball bikini offering “space glitter.” Enzo looking deeply, deeply unimpressed. Then… nothing.

A full blackout.

“Ohhhhhh my god, I lost the mafia don.”

Gino covered his face with both hands. “Enzo is going to fucking kill me. Or worse—his mother is going to kill me because he’s already dead. And then she’ll revive me just to kill me again.”

He stood again, wobbled, stepped directly on someone’s hand, and limped toward the front door.

“Okay. Okay. It’s fine. He probably went back to the hotel. He’s Enzo. He’s invincible.”

He paused at the door.

“…Right?”

Cue existential spiral.

Because Enzo might be invincible.

But Vegas?

Vegas fucking wasn’t.

Enzo’s Crew 7:27AM

Tension crackled inside the Vero Lux penthouse, the high-security nerve center of Enzo Marchesi’s empire.

Nico paced the marble floor; phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “No ping. No voicemail. No burner. No sign.”

“He didn’t check in last night?” Lorenzo asked, pushing away from the sleek bar. His tie was still loose, but his tone was all business now.

“Not a word,” Nico said. “Not even to Luce.”

Dom looked up from the security monitors, expression grim. “What about Gino?”

“Worse,” Nico said flatly. “Gino’s phone is off. And his location history says he was last seen somewhere outside the goddamn Nevada desert.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Tell me Enzo didn’t actually let Gino drag him to Burning Man,” Dom muttered.

Nico ran a hand down his face. “They left two days ago. Said it was a quick escape business.’”

“Jesus Christ.” Lorenzo stood, hands on hips. “And we let him go?”

“He said it was off-grid. No detail. No security.” Nico’s voice sharpened. “He’s never done that. Never. Not since he took the throne.”

Dom pushed back from the monitors and stood. “He should’ve checked in by now.”

Nico nodded. “And Gino’s not answering? That’s what worries me. If it was just Enzo pulling a fast one, Gino would’ve bragged by now. Posted a fire emoji selfie or something.”

“Unless someone took them both.”

The room went silent again.

Lorenzo crossed his arms. “We put the Vegas eyes on it?”

“All of ’em,” Nico confirmed. “Quiet sweep. If we get nothing by tonight…”

“…we escalate,” Dom finished grimly.

There was nothing left to say.

LOLA – 10:41 AM

And I have a Greek statue tied to my bed, actually.

Oh please do. I’d love to go deal with my accidental hostage instead.

Ugh, to much talking already, my head is killing me.

This woman is the reason tattoo artists do inappropriate things to their clients when they’re not paying attention bitch.

THAT’S IT, she’s getting a dick right there in that bottom flower petal. Hopefully she never notices.

Bitch, I hope this filigree ends up looking like balls at the bottom of this shaft.

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