La Rosa Bianca was exactly what Neila had expected.
A squat, unremarkable building tucked between a defunct bakery and a boarded-up laundromat. Its brick facade was stained with decades of harbor grime, and its sign was faded and chipped, the letters barely legible in the gray morning light.
A single light burned in the window. The door was unlocked.
"There's a basement," Vert said quietly. "But I do not know how to access it."
"Then it's best if we go inside." Neila's lips curved. "Then let's go introduce ourselves. Vert stay here, you'll know when to come to me."
They stepped inside.
They crossed the street and pushed through the restaurant's front door. A bell chimed overhead. The interior was dim and quiet, smelling of garlic and old wine and the faint, acrid undertone of cleaning chemicals. Red-checkered tablecloths.
Worn wooden chairs. A counter with a vintage cash register. The walls were covered in photographs, family gatherings, staff parties, a hundred frozen moments of a restaurant's long and unremarkable life.
"Your father," she said. "Where did he work? Specifically."
"I don't know that, I've never visited him at work."
A woman behind the counter looked up. She was young, maybe twenty, with dark hair pulled back in a practical bun and the kind of tired eyes that came from working double shifts in a dying neighborhood.
"We're closed," she said flatly.
Neila didn't stop walking. "I'm not here for food."
"I said we're closed." Her hand drifted beneath the counter. "You need to leave."
"I have Daniel Aamon's daughter." Neila pushed Kira towards the counter.
Kira clutched her stomach, trying to hold in a squeal from the pain of hitting into the edge of the counter, her knees shaking, ready to collapse.
"How do you know that name?"
Neila stared at Kira.
[Kira's dad never took her to work, I doubt anyone here knows what she looks like, how am I even supposed to prove that she's his daughter?]
"She's his daughter, duh? Anyways, I know this is a front, there's probably a passage behind the kitchen, let us in, I want to talk to one of the Leviathan higher ups."
Her expression didn't change, but something shifted behind her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're contradicting your previous statement by saying that, I'm not here to threaten you at all, I just want to apply for the group, if I really did want to snitch on you all, I'd have already done it, we're rogues anyways, the government wants us dead, we can apply can't we?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine, come with me."
The door swung open.
Beyond it, stairs. Descending into darkness.
The basement was larger than the restaurant above it.
It stretched into shadow in every direction, its walls lined with monitors and communications equipment and the kind of hardware that belonged in a military command center rather than a family-owned Italian restaurant.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in shades of clinical white and cold steel. The air smelled of ozone and old coffee.
And at the center of it all, seated at a long metal table with his hands folded in front of him, was a man.
He was older. Mid-fifties, perhaps, with silver-streaked hair and a face that had been carved by decades of hard decisions. His eyes were dark and watchful.
"What did I say about letting outsiders in?" he asked the waitress.
"I'm sorry, master Eric. She said that she wanted to apply."
"And you just believed her?"
"She said that if she really wanted to snitch on us then she would've done it already."
"She could have officers stationed outside."
"And she said that she had the recently deceased master Daniel's daughter with her."
"Hmm.."
Neila stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Her blue eyes swept the room, a soft smile appeared across her face.
"Hello there."
Eric leaned back in his chair. "You're either very brave or very stupid to come here, Neila Shaw."
"Oh, you know who I am?" Neila asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I'd never thought that my name would reach the mouth of someone like you."
"I like to read the news sometimes. The heir to the Shaw family fortune got… greedy and stole an important asset belonging to the great families."
Neila's eyes widened, ever so slightly. "Is that how they're framing it? They're making me out to be the bad guy. I can't believe that they're just lying outright."
"Then what did you really do? Our information networks couldn't even pick up on what the families were even hiding in the first place."
"Wouldn't you like to know? Say what, I'll tell you if you guarantee our protection."
"That's such a shame, you would've really piqued my interest, if we hadn't already known."
"So you were lying to me? So you really did know?"
"Of course."
"Uh huh."
Eric studied her for a long moment.
"Let's say I believe you. Let's say I'm willing to hear you out. What exactly are you offering?"
Neila didn't hesitate. "Daniel Aamon used to work here, didn't he? And the fact that the cashier called you with the same honorifics as him means you inherited his position, no? You must've been close. I have his daughter."
His dark eyes flickered to Kira, who was hovering at the bottom of the stairs, her face pale, her hands clenched at her sides.
"Daniel's daughter," he said quietly. "You look like your mother."
Kira flinched.
Neila smiled.
"Her life is in your hands."
"So what if I take her in and not you?"
"She can't live without us for long, she needs her emotional support human as well."
"Tell me what you want?"
"Protection," Neila said.
"Protection." Eric tasted the word. "From what?"
"Obviously from everyone who wants us dead, especially the government and the great families." Neila met his eyes. "We don't have any resources either."
[It'd be best to not tell him about the Mirlo assets, I'll give them as little as I can. Best to not tell them about the goddess too, I only brought her just in case the negotiations didn't work but he clearly seems to be attached to Daniel already]
"And you think we do."
"Of course." Neila's voice was steady. "There's no way you don't."
Eric was silent for a long moment. The fluorescent lights hummed. The armed figures in the shadows shifted their weight, waiting for a signal that didn't come.
"I know you stole the source for magical tool production, it will still be in your ownership but we want access to it as long as we're protecting you."
Neila's eyes widened.
[Damn it, I guess I have no choice do I?]
"We won't be operating the magical tool production, the specifics of the manufacturing isn't out and the source has gone through a lot of strain, I'm afraid that's impossible."
"Then show it to me. Show me the source."
Neila stared at his face.
[Should I just go grab a random car engine and pump it with my mana? I think that'd be too obvious. Is there really no way for me to weasel out of this?]
"Hey! You can come down now!"
The moment Neila had called for her, she already appeared in the stairway, her green eyes staring forwards.
Neila smiled. "This is the source, Sarah. She was born with an abnormality that gave her an absurd amount of mana."
"That's a primordial."
Neila's eyes narrowed.
"Th-"
"There's no need to lie to me, I already have information regarding the primordials."
"Tsk." Neila turned away. "So that wasn't a bluff? Did you really have information regarding the magical tool production method?"
"Of course it was a bluff, none of us had any clue on the magical tool production method, but we knew about the existence of the goddesses already, we've already seen another one." He stood up. "Anyways, I'll take your deal. Tentatively."
Neila's expression didn't change. "It's not like you have a choice, you owe Daniel Aamon after all." She leaned in, on her tip toes, trying to whisper in his ear. "The families are divided now, if you ask the higher ups to strike now, you might actually make an impact."
"You're rather terrifying."
"Am I?"
Neila pouted. Her face was doll-like, sparkles seem to emanate off her, displaying an aura of innocence.
"We'll think about trying to get involved with the families."
"Daniel was a good man. One of our best." Eric's voice softened, just slightly. "From what I've seen, I think it's better to not have you as an opponent."
"So is that a yes?"
"I am Eric," he said. "One of the five executives who lead the Leviathans, the title that once belonged to Daniel Aamon."
Neila allowed herself a small, sharp smile. "Then we have an agreement?"
"Of course." Eric said. "You are now officially under our protection."
"Welcome to the Leviathans."
The car ride back to the hotel was silent.
Neila sat in the passenger seat, her forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window, watching the city slide past in streaks of gray and gold.
The sun was rising now, painting the sky in shades of pale pink and orange that seemed almost peaceful after the chaos of the night before.
Kira sat in the back, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes wide and unblinking. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the restaurant.
The hotel room was still dark when they returned.
Neila pushed through the door and found Hoshim still lying on the bed, still staring at the ceiling with those blank, unseeing eyes.
"Hoshimi, are you done sulking now?"
"I'm done processing everything, I just- I still can't believe it."