Carmen
I knew exactly when Nico left the estate.
He didn't need to tell me twice where he was going. Still, Nico had looked me straight in the eye, nodded once like that was the end of the discussion, and walked out anyway—despite me telling him how bad the idea of meeting blade was.
And now, thirty minutes later, I was sitting upstairs in the living room with a stack of contract documents spread across my lap, trying to focus on words that refused to stay still in my head.
Don Gotti was still in hiding.
Vito had followed suit, though "followed suit" was too generous a phrase for a man who had basically been torn apart. An arm and a leg gone, permanently, no matter how much money or power he had left to throw at the problem. Even if he tried to replace them, there were some things the world didn't give back.
And yet none of it felt like the end.
That was the problem. It never was.
