Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Smoke
Midnight draped the Vane estate in suffocating shadows. In the private cigar lounge adjacent to the council chambers, the air was thick with smoke and conspiracy. Leandro poured a glass of amber whiskey, his eyes fixed on the flickering hearth. The ghost of the silver chain still felt heavy against his skin.
The heavy mahogany door creaked open, revealing Daphne. She slipped inside quietly, locking the door behind her with a soft click.
“Estelle is resting,” Daphne said, walking over to stand beside him. “Though ‘resting’ is a generous word for someone whose throne was usurped in front of half the syndicate.”
“Maribel is testing my limits,” Leandro replied, swirling the liquor in his glass. “She wants the council to see me as weak, hesitant to discipline my own blood.”
“She wants a civil war, Leandro. And she’s building alliances while you sit here playing chess.” Daphne stepped closer, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “I overheard two capos talking in the courtyard. They aren't just loyal to Maribel’s bloodline anymore. They’re loyal to her money—money that’s flowing from an outside source you haven’t authorized.”
Leandro stopped swirling his glass. The Vane syndicate’s finances were locked down tight under his direct oversight. For Maribel to fund dissent meant she had a silent partner—someone powerful enough to bypass internal security.
“Who?” Leandro demanded.
“That’s what we need to find out,” Daphne said, pulling a folded paper from her coat pocket. “I lifted this from Maribel’s personal study while everyone was distracted by the banquet scene. It’s a manifest for a shipment arriving at the private docks tonight. Unregistered cargo.”
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Leandro looked down at the paper, his mind racing. If Maribel was smuggling unauthorized goods through their territory, she was violating the syndicate’s primary charter—an offense punishable by exile, or worse.
“We go to the docks,” Leandro said, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. “Tonight.”
