Chapter 1 - The First Bite
The diner was silent, save for the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the greasy front window.
Gabriel Hayes stared down at the chipped ceramic bowl.
The steam rising from the dark, rich broth carried a scent he had not smelled in thirty years.
It was not the sterile, complicated aroma of truffle oil or Wagyu beef.
It was the smell of a cramped apartment kitchen in the slums of Little Italy.
It was the smell of safety.
His hand trembled violently as he gripped the cheap aluminum spoon.
The paranoia that had starved him for eight agonizing days screamed in the back of his mind.
Don’t eat it.
It’s poison.
It’s a trap.
He looked up at the waitress standing quietly beside the booth.
She wore a faded pink uniform, stained with dishwater and smelling faintly of bleach.
Her eyes were entirely devoid of the terrifying reverence his own men showed him.
She simply looked at him like a man who needed to eat.
Gabriel dipped the spoon into the thick gravy, capturing a small piece of potato and a shred of beef.
He brought the spoon to his lips.
The entire diner collectively held its breath.
Leo, his massive enforcer, kept one hand hovering dangerously close to the pistol concealed beneath his jacket.
Gabriel tasted the stew.
The savory depth of the roasted garlic, the earthy grounding of the thyme, and the unexpected, soulful warmth of the cinnamon exploded across his tongue.
It was not just similar to the meal his late mother used to make when they were desperately poor.
It was exactly the same.
A violent, uncontrollable shudder racked his hollowed-out frame.
Tears, hot and utterly humiliating, pricked the corners of his sunken eyes.
He didn't care.
He took another bite. Then another.
He ate with the desperate, aggressive hunger of a starving wolf.
The ceramic bowl clattered loudly against the table as he scraped the very last drop of gravy from the bottom.
When he finally dropped the spoon, his breathing was heavy and ragged.
For the first time in a week, the suffocating fog of paranoia lifted slightly from his exhausted brain.
He felt the heavy, comforting warmth of actual food settling securely in his stomach.
Gabriel slowly wiped his mouth with a cheap paper napkin and looked at the quiet waitress.
"What is your name?" he asked, his voice still rough but surprisingly steady.
"Norah," she replied simply, keeping her hands clasped in front of her apron.
Gabriel reached into the inner pocket of his bespoke suit.
Leo instantly tensed, anticipating trouble, but Gabriel merely pulled out a thick, silver money clip.
He peeled off five crisp, hundred-dollar bills and placed them squarely on the table.
"This is for the meal," Gabriel stated flatly.
He peeled off another fifty hundred-dollar bills, a small fortune in cash, and pushed the massive stack toward her.
"And this is for tomorrow."
"You work for me now."
Norah stared at the mountain of cash, her heart hammering aggressively against her ribs.
"I can't," Norah whispered, backing away half a step.
"I am studying for my nursing exams, and Benny needs me here."
Gabriel’s eyes hardened, the brief vulnerability vanishing completely.
"I wasn't offering you a job, Norah."
May you like
"I was giving you an order."
Before Norah could protest again, the heavy glass front door of the diner shattered violently inward.
