Dominic
She was going to get herself killed.
And for what? Some punk kid with sticky fingers and a bad instinct for alleys?
I watched her step back onto the sidewalk like she hadn't almost made me put a bullet in someone's spine. Her hands were shaking. She didn't even notice. People like her never do. They go through life thinking kindness is armor. That a little light makes them untouchable.
It doesn't.
She wore a dress like it mattered. Hair pinned back like she was heading to brunch instead of a crime scene. Skin flushed. Eyes too wide. Mouth too soft.
Gianna Moretti.
The Don's niece. Off-limits. Untouchable. Sheltered and sugar-dipped. Like biting into a cupcake and realizing it's stuffed with live wires.
She was supposed to be taking a baking class in Midtown.
Not playing vigilante in a Southside alley crawling with people who'd sell her bones for dope.
I didn't speak. I didn't scold. She wouldn't hear it, anyway. People like her think defiance is courage. Think plus size girls don't get to be heroes, so they make themselves into martyrs instead.
She didn't even see me until I stepped in.
Didn't realize how close she was to bleeding out until the threat was already broken at her feet.
She turned her head. Looked at me. Eyes too damn trusting for what I am.
She didn't know it yet, but I'd been following her since the moment she stepped off the subway alone.
Because someone had to.
Because the Don knew the world was teeth.
And his niece? She walked around like it wasn't already chewing on her shadow.
"You shouldn't have done that," I said finally.
She blinked. "What?"
I allowed the quiet to linger.
"You don't belong in places like this."
That made her straighten, stubborn. Good. I wanted her angry. I wanted her to remember.
"I wasn't going to let them hurt him."
My jaw flexed.
"And who was going to stop them from hurting you?"
She didn't have an answer.
I didn't need one.
I walked to the car without looking back.
But I could still hear her footsteps behind me.
Still feel her presence like heat in my peripheral.
Still think, She's not ready for this world.
But I also knew the truth.
It wasn't the world I was worried about.
It was her.
Because innocence doesn't survive in our world.
It gets eaten alive – or worse, it makes men like me forget they're monsters.