Page 63 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

Calista shuts the iPad with a soft snap, sliding it back into her bag like a blade she’s confident she won’t need.

As we walk out, I glance over at her. "You didn’t hesitate."

"He wasn’t worth it," she says and smiles at me like she didn’t just nearly destroy a man’s life.

"Ready for our next stop?" I ask.

"I can’t wait."

XXX

Renzo De Corsi’s villa sits just outside the city—a secluded sprawl of stone and ivy tucked behind iron gates and tall hedges. It’s too new to be old money but tries hard to look like it. Faux-European charm. Flashy cars parked out front. The kind of place that screams overcompensation.

We’re led through marble halls by a tight-lipped servant who doesn’t ask questions. Calista walks like she owns the damn place, calm and poised, fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag like it’s a blade she’s ready to draw.

Renzo meets us in a private study—dark-paneled walls, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with untouched hardcovers, and a fireplace that probably hasn’t been lit since installation.

He stands when we enter. Younger than Zano. Less hardened. Slicker. Like he knows he’s being watched and thinks charm might save him.

"Lazaro. Calista. To what do I owe the honor?"

I choose not to sit. Calista speaks first. "You know exactly why we’re here."

His scoffs. "You expect me to betray blood?"

"Zano already did," she replies, cool as glass. "To all of you. You just haven’t realized it yet."

He scoffs, pacing in front of the fireplace like that’ll give him some kind of control. "You think I don’t know what this is? You’re cornering me. You want me to slit my own cousin’s throat for a seat at your table."

"No," I cut in. "We want you to survive. And if you play it right, maybe even thrive."

Renzo’s eyes lift to me, and I see the flicker of memory—he remembers our fathers. My old man was cruel, emotionless, a monster with a kingdom. But he made a few good decisions. One of them was choosing his allies wisely. He and Renzo’s father were close. They built a lot of quiet power together.

"Our fathers knew what it meant to stay ahead of the game," I say quietly. "They built empires out of loyalty and strategy. Zano’s torching that legacy. You think he’ll protect you once we start choking off his last resources? You think he wouldn’t throw you to the wolves if it bought him five more minutes of power?"

Renzo stays quiet. He’s chewing it over. But his eyes? They give him away.

Calista steps closer, unzipping her bag and pulling out the iPad again. She holds it casually, like it weighs nothing, but the second she taps the screen and brings up the files, the energy in the room shifts.

"You want proof? I’ve got files connecting Zano to your failed logistics deal in Portugal. You were supposed to get twenty percent. Zano rerouted half the shipment behind your back and sold it off. You know how I know? The buyer came to us yesterday asking for a better deal."

His nostrils flare. The charm's gone now.

"Protection under the Virelli Syndicate," she continues. "Full amnesty. Power. And a chance to rise—if you bring us insider intel and denounce Zano publicly."

I fold my arms. "You’re next in line anyway. Zano’s done. He just doesn’t know it yet. You can either burn with him or build something new. Your call."

"You’re asking me to paint a target on my back," he says. "You think the other De Corsis won’t come for me?"

"You won’t have to worry about them," I say. "Once Zano’s out of the picture, we’ll clean house. You’ll be protected—by the only people who’ve proven they can survive this war."

Renzo stares at us. The bravado finally starts to peel back. I can see him doing the math. The risks. The rewards. The fact that this isn’t just a deal—it’s a lifeline.

He exhales through his nose, slowly.

"Zano is already dying," he says. "I’d rather stand with fire than fall with ash."

Calista smiles, triumphant. "Smart man."

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