The Don Called Me Nobody Chapter 08

The Don Called Me Nobody Chapter 08: Nobody’s Girl

The house found out at 8:04 the next morning.

Bianca says grown men in the kitchen dropped things.

Dominic read the letter aloud at the breakfast table, in front of every captain, and then said, “Anyone have a problem with a Costa at my right hand?” and nobody did, because nobody ever has a problem with anything at that table while

he’s looking at them.

Camilla found me in the laundry hallway at 8:20, still holding her coffee, and she was smiling.

That’s how I knew it was going to get ugly.

“Miss Costa,” she said. “We’ve all been calling you the wrong thing.”

“Camilla-”

“Seven years.” Pleasant. “Seven years I bled for this family. Every filthy thing you can imagine. And you got the Don’s voice in nineteen hours by standing next to his dying sister.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“No. You did something so much worse. You had it the whole time.” Her smile slipped. “Do you know how many of my rosters came back fixed in pencil? Forty. Forty times some ghost corrected my work and let me keep my reputation. And it was you. On your knees. Watching me.”

“I never wanted you to fail.”

“You let me not know how good I actually was.” Her voice shook, and for one second I saw something almost human. “That’s the same thing, Serafina. That’s exactly the same thing.”

She walked away. At the corner she stopped.

“Friday,” she said. “Dawn. Lot of dark. Lot can go wrong in a parking lot.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a prediction.”

Thursday night, Volkov let me talk to Gianna for four minutes. A courtesy. Arkady’s version of an apology.

She sounded like her brother with none of the frost.

“You’re the lady on the phone.”

“I’m the lady on the phone.”

“They said you’re famous.”

“They exaggerate.”

“My brother doesn’t exaggerate. Ever. It’s honestly a problem.” A shaky breath. “Am I going to die tomorrow?”

The old me would have said something warm and useless.

“Maybe,” I said. “About one in five. That’s the honest number. Anyone who gives you a better one is managing you

Silence. Then a wet laugh. “God. Thank you. Everyone talks to me like I’m a hamster.”

“You’re not a hamster. You’re a girl with a plan. Tomorrow you walk when I say walk, you don’t run, you don’t look back, and when you reach the car you say the word.”

“Biscotti.”

“Biscotti.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

I told her the truth.

“The last person I brought home was my father,” I said. “And I lost him on the way.”

She was quiet a long time.

“Then let’s get you a better last one,” she said.

At 11 p.m. I went down to the comms room to check the final confirmation from Volkov.

The location I’d sent was St. Agnes. Church lot. Three exits. Commission’s man in the bell tower.

The confirmation on the screen said:

LOCATION ACCEPTED: MARLOW STREET BRIDGE. 04:30.

I stood in that dim room and felt three years of carefully packed ice crack straight down the middle

1 pulled up the outgoing log.

Location change sent to Volkov: 9:12 p.m.

Device FERRO, C.

Message: The Don prefers the bridge. Confirm.