The Waldorf Astoria gleamed like a palace of glass and gold beneath the midnight sky. Chandeliers blazed through tall windows, casting warm light onto the rain-slicked streets where sleek black cars arrived one after another. Uniformed valets moved with practiced precision, opening doors for guests dressed in velvet, silk, and secrets.
Inside, the grand ballroom was a vision from another era, crystal chandeliers dripping with firelight, marble floors polished to perfection, and an orchestra playing a slow, haunting waltz that curled through the air like smoke.
Masks adorned every face, foxes, ravens, wolves, and ghosts of men long gone. A masquerade not just of costume, but of deception.
Luca entered through a side door cloaked in shadow, his new suit hugging his frame like armor. The Seamstress's tie sat snug at his throat, the tracker hidden within its knot pulsing faintly against his skin. He adjusted his mask, a simple black half-veil, and stepped into the crowd.
Enzo followed close behind, dressed as a waiter to stay under the radar. He tapped Luca's shoulder lightly.
"They're everywhere," he murmured. "Rocco's men."
Luca didn't look at him. Just let his eyes scan the room.
Sure enough, they were there, bodyguards in tuxedos, champagne flutes in hand but eyes sharp and watchful. Some danced with masked women, others stood near the pillars like statues carved from stone.
At the center of it all, seated at the head table beneath a canopy of red drapes, was Don Rocco Serra.
He looked like royalty tonight, silver hair slicked back, tailored suit cut so finely it shimmered with movement. He sipped wine slowly, watching the room with the patience of a predator who already knew how the night would end.
Luca took a deep breath.
It was time.
He moved toward the bar, weaving through the crowd. Each step brought him closer to the edge of the dance floor, where power and danger swirled together like the music.
A woman brushed past him, tall, elegant, wearing a silver mask shaped like a cat's face. Her gloved fingers barely grazed his arm as she passed.
"Careful, wolf," she whispered without breaking stride. "The spider is watching."
Luca turned slightly, catching a glimpse of her retreating form before she vanished into the sea of masks.
Enzo reappeared beside him. "You know her?"
Luca shook his head. "No.. I don't.. Not yet."
He spotted Vince Lanza standing near Rocco's table, arms crossed, scanning the crowd like a hawk searching for prey. If anyone was going to spot trouble, it'd be him.
Luca made his way toward the balcony overlooking the ballroom, slipping past servers and dancers alike. From this vantage point, he could see everything, the shifting alliances, the whispered conversations, the subtle signals passed between men who wore smiles like weapons.
He pulled out a small earpiece and placed it inside his ear canal.
"Enzo," he whispered. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
A soft static crackle, then his voice came through, calm and measured. "Yeah I'm watching. You're too exposed, kid."
"I need to get closer," Luca replied.
"If you do this you'll have one shot," he warned. "Make it count."
Below, Rocco raised his glass in a silent toast. Someone across the room returned the gesture.
Luca leaned forward, trying to catch the exchange.
Then he saw it.
A briefcase resting at Rocco's feet.
No guards touching it. No one even looking at it directly.
But everyone respected its presence.
That wasn't just luggage.
That was leverage.
Luca turned to Enzo. "We need to get that case."
Enzo frowned. "You want to steal from the devil in his own den?"
Luca smirked. "Only way to beat him."
Before Enzo could respond, the lights flickered once, then dimmed slightly, as if the chandeliers had exhaled.
A distraction.
From the corner of his eye, Luca caught sight of the silver-masked woman again. She was now speaking to a server, nodding subtly in Luca's direction.
She winked at him.
Then the music changed.
A new song began... one faster, more urgent. Couples rushed to the floor, spinning and twirling, filling the space between Luca and his target.
Perfect.
Luca descended the stairs like a shadow, moving with purpose. Enzo covered his flank, blending into the chaos.
As the crowd surged, Luca slipped past Vince unnoticed, crouched low, and reached for the briefcase.
His fingers closed around the handle...
And then...
A hand clamped down on his wrist.
Hard.
He looked up.
Rocco Serra was smiling.
"Welcome to the party, boy," he said softly.
Behind them, the music played on.
But the game had just begun.