“So,” the man began, leaning forward. “Do you have what it takes to bring Marco Moretti to his knees?”
My breath hitched, but before I could speak, Vito’s hand landed lightly on my shoulder. “She does,” he said, his voice firm.
The man’s gaze held mine, calculating, searching for something—weakness, resolve, I wasn’t sure. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The sound of a phone buzzing cut through the tension. Vito straightened and pulled his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen before excusing himself and stepping out of the room.
My eyes followed him, my stomach twisting with unease.
The room’s attention shifted back to me, but my thoughts stayed on Vito. I needed him here with me, his steadiness anchoring me.
In the hallway, Vito answered the call. His voice is low but steady. “Yes?”
A woman’s voice crackled through the receiver. “The plan’s working. He took the bait.”
Vito’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Good. Stay on him. We’ll move to the next phase soon.”
There was a pause before she spoke again. “And Celia?”
“She’s in,” Vito replied, his voice unwavering. “She’ll do what needs to be done.”