The Daisy

15. Safety of Ravioli

“Calvin…I’ll try to save Ravioli first. And I’ll send her to a safe location. Can you pick her up back to our house? That’s incase I couldn’t have enough time. And…about them. I’ll try to finish everything up.”

The gravity of her words hung between them like a drawn blade. The quiet Italian restaurant around them suddenly felt miles away, replaced by the cold, calculated reality of a war council between two people who knew that every second counted and every misstep could be fatal.

Calvin’s face hardened into a mask of pure, unyielding resolve. The thought of her walking back into the syndicate’s crosshairs alone made his stomach churn, but he saw the unshakeable determination in her eyes. He knew her well enough to know that arguing would only waste precious time; she had already made up her mind, and her primary focus was absolute—Ravioli comes first.

He reached across the table, his hand closing firmly over hers with a grip that was both grounding and absolute.

"I'll have the safehouse prepped and waiting," Calvin said, his voice a low, gravelly vow that brooked no argument. "The moment you secure her and get her out, send me the drop coordinates. I’ll clear whatever perimeter I have to, pick her up myself, and bring her home to our house where she’ll be locked down and protected. Nobody touches her while I’m breathing."

He paused, his dark eyes searching hers, piercing through the armor she wore so effortlessly, demanding she hear the most important part of his promise.

"You finish what you need to do with them, Nancy. Play their game, get the leverage, and tear them down from the inside if you have to. But you listen to me—you come back. Do you hear me? You finish them, and then you come home to our kitchen."

Nancy held his gaze, the icy knot in her chest warming just a fraction under the weight of his fierce, uncompromising devotion. She gave a slow, deliberate nod, a faint, fragile smile touching the corners of her lips.

"I'll come home," she whispered softly, her thumb brushing against his knuckles. "Promesa."

She pulled her hand back reluctantly, the lingering warmth of his touch fading as she slipped her burner phone out of her pocket. Without another second to waste, her thumbs moved rapidly across the screen, drafting a reply to Lucius that would draw the hunter back into her web, setting the final, dangerous trap in motion.

The screen glowed harsh and cold against her thumb as the message punched through the dark network:

“Lucius. In 1 hour. You better keeps Ravioli safe. I’m on my way.”

Before Calvin could even close the distance between them or utter another warning, Nancy stood up from the booth with fluid, terrifying grace. The ordinary civilian in the white linen dress evaporated, replaced entirely by the lethal phantom of the underworld. She leaned down, her hands framing his face, and pressed a lingering, fiercely tender kiss against his temple—a silent vow sealed in the scent of cedar and gunpowder.

"Wait for my signal," she murmured against his skin, her voice a low, steady breath before she turned on her heel.

She didn't look back. She slipped out through the heavy glass doors of the trattoria into the cool autumn night, her stride eating up the distance toward the waiting shadows where the final reckoning awaited.

Calvin sat alone in the quiet corner booth, the half-empty glass of Chianti catching the dim restaurant light. The muscle in his jaw ticked once, twice. He pulled out his own phone, dialing an encrypted, secure frequency with steady, ruthless precision.

The game was on.

***

At the abandoned warehouse.

The rusted iron sliding doors of the abandoned shipping warehouse groaned open on misaligned tracks, the screech echoing hollowly across the cavernous concrete floor like a dying animal. The air inside was thick with the suffocating stench of stagnant river water, damp concrete, and the lingering, chemical tang of industrial solvent—the exact olfactory signature of countless midnight cleanups where evidence of corporate corruption and state-level assassinations had been systematically erased.