Chapter 4 - The Ledger of Debts
Valente stood over the two trembling men for a long, agonizing moment before gesturing subtly to his bodyguards.
"Take them," Valente said, his voice flat and expressionless. "Put them in the trunk of the Lincoln. We’ll have a quiet conversation about Chicago real estate somewhere the city air is cleaner."
The two massive guards moved with terrifying efficiency, hauling Davis and Tommy up by their collars as if they weighed nothing more than sacks of laundry. As they dragged them back toward the front street, Davis’s pathetic cries echoed off the brick walls until the heavy doors swung shut, cutting them off entirely.
An oppressive silence settled over the alley.
Ruby stood frozen twenty feet away, still holding her empty service pouch. Her adrenaline was beginning to crash, leaving a sickening, metallic taste in her mouth and a violent tremor in her knees. She had just crossed paths with the most dangerous man in the city, helped foil a mafia assassination attempt, and thrown a restaurant tool like a throwing knife.
I'm going to get fired, she thought with a sudden, hysterical surge of absurd humor. Rossy is going to kill me for losing a corkscrew.
Valente stepped closer, the amber light catching the sharp angles of his face. Up close, he was towering, his presence overwhelming. He looked down at the floor where the shattered detonator lay, then up at Ruby’s hand, which was still trembling slightly.
"Where did you learn to throw like that?" Valente asked, his tone curious rather than threatening.
"My sister," Ruby said, her voice raspy. "She played softball through high school. I used to pitch batting practice in our backyard so she wouldn't lose her form."
Valente looked at her for a long, unblinking second. He took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them. He didn't look like a mob boss in this light; he looked like a man who carried the weight of a collapsing empire on his shoulders.
"You saved my life tonight, Ruby," he said, using her name with a casual familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine. "And you saved the people inside this building. In my line of work, people who save my life tend to become very expensive investments."
"I don't want an investment," Ruby said sharply, finding a sudden surge of defensive pride. "I want to finish my shift, collect my tips, and go home to my sister. And I want that table fixed because Rossy is going to scream at me if I don't clear the dessert plates."
A slow, rare shadow of a smile touched the corner of Valente’s mouth—not a warm smile, but a genuine one that softened the harsh lines of his jaw.
"Stubborn," he murmured. "A dangerous trait in this city."
He reached into the inner pocket of his charcoal vest, pulled out a heavy, gold-plated fountain pen, and a blank business card. He didn't write a number on it; instead, he pressed it firmly into her palm, his fingers warm against her cold skin.
"If anyone ever gives you trouble at Ilbastion—or anywhere else in this district—you show that card to the man at the front door," Valente said quietly. "And if your sister needs tuition for college, tell her the scholarship fund just got an anonymous anonymous donor with very deep pockets."
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Before Ruby could reply, Valente turned on his heel, adjusting his cuffs with effortless composure, and walked back through the service door into the warm, golden glow of the restaurant as if nothing had happened at all.
Ruby stood alone in the alley for a long time, looking down at the heavy gold card in her hand. Her heart was still hammering, but for the first time in nine years, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter.
