“Not everything,” the man corrects, but a subtle shift in his inflection resonates like an off-key note. Or a slap. “The day is far too nice for an argument, don’t you think?”
Both Saleris stiffen.
“Yes,” the man continues. “Far too nice. I hope any minor inconveniences can be set aside. All in the name of progress.”
“Of course,” Mateo says in a rush. “Whatever it takes to—”
“Good.” After another glance at his watch, the man leans forward, bracing his hands against the railing, his eyes on the horizon. “Progress is a wonderful thing. Advancement. Change.”
“You sound like an investor,” Donatello interjects. I bet he’s remembering the property listings. Could this man be responsible for directing the purchases?
“Investor?” the man replies—one of the first times he’s addressed Donatello directly. “Perhaps. An investor in progress. In fact, I’m confident that and more is in our near future, ready to commence. Any minute now…”
A low thud rumbles in the distance like a carefully choreographed moment meant to add emphasis to his words. Thunder? A larger boom reverberates next, so loud I’m sure it can be heard through the entire city.
An eerie silence falls in its wake. Even the water itself seems to still, every nearby creature from the men I’m with, to the birds above stunned into a muted anticipation.
And finally, a flash of light battles with the sun itself, emanating from the westward direction. It’s so bright my entire vision goes white. Then orange. A brilliant, gleaming orange that licks at the sky in a slow-rising swell.
“What the fuck?” Donatello shoves me behind him as the boat lurches beneath us, caught by a sudden wave. I have to grapple for the nearby railing just to stay upright, nearly knocked off my feet. “What the hell was that?”
As if in answer to his question, an even louder boom rocks through the city. It’s so loud. My ears ring as the sensation of the blow resonates in my very bones.
There’s no mistaking such a violent crack of noise. A single term comes to mind—explosion. Plumes of rich black sweep up to edge the orange licking at the horizon, and I finally recognize the vibrant shapes for what they are—flames. Even from here, a chorus of sirens and alarms begin to swell, audible on the breeze.
“Jesus Christ,” Mateo exclaims.
Gregori gapes at the sight, but I get the sense that he’s more resigned than alarmed.
The only person seemingly unfazed at all is the blond man. “Beautiful,” he says with genuine admiration, his smile more apparent than ever. “Right on time.”
“Fuck…” Donatello hisses through his teeth. “Where is that fucking coming from?”
“The West District,” the man says coldly. “Far from any residential area, though fatalities are to be expected. Well, what a blaze. I think we’re done here, gentlemen.”
Mateo snaps his fingers, summoning a guard. “See these two off the ship. This was a pleasant discussion.” Sarcasm drips from his tone, clashing harshly with the quiet voice that rings out next.
“Pleasant indeed.” The blond man inclines his head as if he just remembered that other people were in the vicinity. Against the backdrop of the blood-red flames, he looks ghoulish, remarkably pale. “I believe the two of us should become more acquainted, Donatello Vanici.” He extends his hand, revealing fingers so slim they look liable to be crushed in the firm grasp Donatello captures them with.
“I don’t become acquainted with people I don’t know,” Donatello says in a tone that straddles the line of threatening. “Especially not people involved with the Saleris. What the hell are you up to?”
The man’s lifeless grin widens. “Of course. I look forward to us getting better acquainted, then. Gentlemen? I think we should be going if we want to stay on schedule. I will be sure to send you an invitation, Mr. Vanici. We must meet at a later date.”
Donatello lurches forward. “Wait—”
“Time’s up,” Mateo warns, stepping into his path. “I think you better do as the man says and wait for your fucking invitation.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Donatello snaps, his eyes on the blond man. “But I’ll need a name to add you to my calendar.”
The other man smiles faintly before nodding, smoothing a hand along his suit. “Shall we, gentlemen?” He strolls back inside the main cabin as the sounds of chaos from the city swell, punctuated with distant shouts.
“Branching out your clientele?” Donatello asks Mateo. “He doesn’t look like the type to enjoy fucking some kidnapped girl who thought she would be coming to the city as a ‘waitress.’”
Mateo’s eyes gleam orange, reflecting the distant blaze. “You have no fucking idea.” Turning to his guard, he snaps, “Get them the fuck off. Now. Before I decide to not ‘stay on schedule.’”
“This way,” the guard ushers us back to the ladder leading to the smaller boat. As we pull away, I spy Mateo Saleri storming across the upper deck, a cell phone glued to his ear. His furious shouting is audible, even from here. “Where the fuck could she have gone? Look again!”
A lone figure watches from the bow of the boat, his eyes on the water. A shade of steel, they eye the waves as if they’re a sight more offensive than the damage and destruction unfolding in the opposite direction.
I swear I feel him staring as we finally return to the Lady Killer.
“Jesus Christ,” Donatello hisses. “What the fuck was that?” He fishes his cell phone from his pocket. “Service is out. Fuck. Look at that…”
I can’t look away. The horizon is now black with smoke, the flames flickering higher. The breeze nips at my hair, and I can only imagine how far the fire might spread, aided by it.
“Sit tight.” Donatello returns to the helm. “We need to get the fuck out of here... What the hell?”
I look over, startled by splotches of red smeared near the entrance of the cabin. They gleam in the sunlight, still wet, almost like droplets of fresh paint. Did he spill something before we left?
“Get behind me,” Donatello
