Santino woke to silence. The hotel room felt like a tomb.
He checked his watch. 3 PM. Five hours until the meeting with El Amore. His phone showed twelve missed calls, all from the same number. He didn't recognize it.
He showered and put on his best suit—black and clean, ready for whatever came next.
The hotel lobby was busy with families checking out, businessmen reading newspapers, normal people living normal lives.
Santino envied them.
He walked to the front desk. The clerk smiled. "Checking out, sir?"
"Yes." Santino handed over his key card.
"I hope you enjoyed your stay."
"It was memorable."
The clerk's smile faltered at something in Santino's tone.
Outside, the afternoon sun was warm as Santino walked to his car. A black Mercedes was parked beside it.
A man in a gray suit
