“Wanna make an example of him?” Phantom asked. “Give Kuang another head for his platter.”
“Hold on,” Han said, looking up from his phone. “According to my contact in their crew, he gave up his place in their family.”
Han cut his eyes towards Victor, “For a girl.”
Yes, Victor’s bout of temporary insanity had been forgiven, but forgotten? Not quite yet.
“I still don’t like that he dared to come in here. He should know better than to walk up into another gang’s territory without an invite,” Phantom said.
“Maybe he doesn’t know this place belongs to the 24K,” Han answered.
Phantom fisted a beefy hand on top of the shiny black table, “Maybe I should give him an etiquette lesson then.”
Victor stopped the argument right there.
“Be smart,” he signed to his cousin. “This girl might be temporary. And we might want to do business with him someday. Future banking.”
Phantom rolled his eyes. He understood future-banking, and he went along with it. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
“Okay, guess I’ll smash instead,” he decided out loud.
Then he ended up starting the fight he was so obviously spoiling for when he pulled a girl that was sitting on another guy’s lap into his and told her, “Guess what. You just got upgraded.”
Victor and Han laughed at his antics but closely watched Ferraro and his friend. They chatted pleasantly at first, but then their conversation got animated. Eventually, Ferraro stood up abruptly from the table, knocking his chair backward. His friend called after him, but Ferraro ignored him.
However, the former Ferraro scion stopped short when he saw two other men coming toward him, identical twin brothers. They looked even more Italian and even more mafia than Ferraro, with shaved heads and huge gold crosses hanging down from their thick necks. Ferraro’s anger instantly faded, and he gave them both those half hugs that American men loved so much.
Victor tensed. Maybe Phantom had been right. But then the three buddies turned around and headed for the exit.
“Wonder what that’s all about,” Han said. He looked up from the phone he’d been texting on all night to watch Ferraro leave the club with his friends.
Victor did too. But out loud, he signed, “Who cares? He’s nobody to us until he returns to his family.”
“Exactly,” Han agreed.
But then his chosen brother got quiet for a few moments before saying. “She’s graduating.”
Victor looked over at Han, Luca Ferraro instantly forgotten. He didn't have to ask who she was. There was only one she. Still.
And the only one more irritated about that than him was Han. Victor suspected his brother was only looking down at his phone again to avoid any follow-up questions.
Victor shook his shoulder to get his attention. “When?”
“Why does it matter?” Han asked, his face going stony. “That conversation was as close to a proposal as you're going to get before we prove ourselves to the 24K dragon.”
True, Victor had all but promised himself to the 24K dragon’s spoiled daughter. But this wasn’t about love. This was about revenge. He signed again. “When?”
Han lowered his phone and let out a stream of Cantonese. Cuss words and recriminations.
Victor waited patiently.
“You should forget about this girl already.” Han switched back to signing now that he’d put down his phone. “Proving ourselves to Kuang. That should be the only thing on your mind.”
Victor considered his points then asked, “Are you saying you don't trust me to oversee the East Coast? You think I can’t handle our business and wrap up some loose strings from the past?”
This wasn't a question; it was a direct challenge. If Han answered no, then by honor, they'd have to fight for control of The Silent Triad. If he answered yes, then he would be forced to give Victor the information he wanted.
Victor knew he was a bastard for putting Han in this position. But he could be a bastard sometimes. Especially when it came to her.
In the end, Han let out another stream of explosive curses. Then he signed, “Next week.”
24
DAWN
“I can't believe we're finally graduating!”
My best friend, Lena Kumar, waved to her father in the audience as we lined up at the edge of the stage to receive our diplomas.
I waved at my family too. Well, most of my family. My mother and brother were sitting next to Lena's father in the temporary bleachers they’d placed out on Skinner Green, the campus’s center lawn. But my father had to work.
A few months after Byron went off to Monmouth University in New Jersey, Dad moved my mom down to Texas. He’d been mostly out of town on a vague "assignment" ever since.
But he’d called me the night before the ceremony to congratulate me on graduating from Mount Holyoke with a degree in Biological Sciences—the first step in building my mom’s dream of me to become a doctor.
