? Train ?
Alex and Dante caught sight of Don Emilio and Don Carlo waving them over.
The two boys exchanged a glance and wordlessly agreed to go.
"I will see you later, madam Katie." Alex bowed slightly to the lady, who returned the gesture with a smile.
As Dante turned to leave, Olivia’s voice snapped behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He half-smiled. “The old men are calling me.”
“You don’t leave without taking permission,” she said, chin lifting.
For a moment, the old anger flashed in Dante’s eyes... until he saw Alex, pretending to sweep the floor with an imaginary broom and then wash an imaginary plate.
A reminder. Their quiet challenge.
Dante exhaled, forcing a calm smile.
“If you’ll excuse me, Olivia. I have an important matter to attend.”
She nodded curtly. “Good. Don’t take long.”
“I miss you already,” he teased as he backed away.
“I… don’t,” she replied, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.
With that, Dante smirked and walked together with Alex.
As the boys drew nearer, the Dons started toward the hotel reception. Dante picked up the subtle movement of the henchmen with hawk eyes, sweeping the crowd and closing ranks around the old bosses.
"Is something going on?" Dante wondered. "Or is it the normal watch?"
Alex cut into his thought. “See what happens if you give her a chance?”
“See what happens when you carry a girl like a princess?” Dante answered dryly. "Also I’m just proving you wrong. I can charm girls. Not all of 'em, just three quarters or something. And the offer to not do chores was too attractive to ignore. Don't get carried away about the whole thing though."
“You don’t like her?” Alex asked, surprised.
Dante shrugged. “She’s… kind of cute, I guess. Discovered that today when you don't fall for her taunts. But she’s got a superiority complex.”
“Dante,” Alex said, soft, “she can’t even walk, and she’s got this phobia...”
“That makes it easier to sympathize.” Dante kept his pace even. “But I already knew enough about her. I don’t like how she treats people.”
As they walked on, Alex stayed quiet for a moment, watching Dante.
“You can reach her,” he said finally.
“As if.”
“Yes, Dante.”
“I’m not you, Alex.” The words landed hard. “You were raised right. You’ve got… foundations, lessons from your parents you can fall back on. You told me that once. I’ve got nothing. A thief, an errand boy with a three months old conscience, proud to move in the shadows.”
He sighed, something like gratitude and a bruise. “You bring out the good in people. I can’t.”
Silence settled as Dante turned that into truth.
Alex cracked a smile. “I don’t remember ever preaching ‘stealing is wrong’ to you.”
“You were always… a good person, Dante. That’s what I believe. Even without me, you’d find your way back.” He tipped his face up to the rooftops, memory folding over him. “You saved me the night we made that promise on the roof— to never be apart. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t been there. I started questioning everything my father taught me after I learned how he got himself and Mother into this world."
"But thanks to you, thanks to what you said, I hang on." Alex continued, putting a hand on Dante's shoulder. "Maybe Olivia needs someone like that too.”
Dante looked at the stones underfoot, walking level with his brother.
"I'll think 'bout it. Just don't tell her about the whole 'I don't know how to read' thing."
The conversation loosened between them— until they reached the door behind the reception where the Dons had disappeared.
They knocked; the door opened. Don Emilio motioned toward Don Carlo, who was already on the phone.
“There — that’s the phone, Alex. Try it.”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never used a phone?”
Alex scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “No. First time.”
Carlo, still half on his call, handed the receiver over with a small, indulgent smile. The boy caught it awkwardly, looking it upside down trying to understand how he can talk to someone from that thing.
“It was upside down, son. Like this.” the old man set the handset in Alex’s palm with the correct weight.
“Th-thanks,” Alex stammered.
Emilio and Carlo sat close enough to follow the conversation. Alex pressed the phone too hard to his ear and froze when he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in days.
His uncle's.
“Good evening, Alex.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “H-Hello. Where are you?”
“Enjoying the party?” Dominick replied, ignoring the question.
“Yes,” Alex blurted. “It’s—there was a spectacle just now—”
“Good.” Dominick cut him off. “Listen well. There are assassins in the hotel.”
Alex’s breath stopped. “What?!” he blurted.
“Keep it down,” Dominick's voice returned.
“S-sorry. Should we clear the hotel?” Alex whispered. "Me and Dante?"
“Let me speak.” A pause, then, when Alex remained quiet, Dominick went on. “No clearing. The girl's grandfather wants her birthday celebrated on the right date. Our men are watching and picking them off quietly, but there are many, and the crowd makes it chaotic.”
“So what do you want us to do? Me and Dante?” Alex asked.
“Silently remove the guns.”
Dominick continued, cold and precise. “They hid the weapons beforehand. Maybe this early morning, maybe yesterday. They knew they'd be searched before the event. I don't expect a rifle or a shotgun. Must be something small and easy to hide: like revolvers. Have you seen one?”
“Not up close.” Alex said.
Emilio, near enough to be felt, slipped a small revolver out from under his tuxedo and held it up for Alex. The sight sent a chill through the boy, the very thing their host had been carrying at the same table.
“Yeah,” Alex croaked. “Mister Emilio just showed me one. But the hotel’s huge. They could be anywhere.”
Silence fell. Alex’s mind went loud: images snapping into place: a bullet finding someone’s chest, crowd screaming in horror. His throat tightened; his palms went clammy. If they didn’t find them—if someone died—how would he carry that? The thought sat in him like a stone. He forced himself to breathe, counted heartbeats, felt Dante at his side, steady; the panic sharpened into a thin, burning focus.
“They’ll be taped under tables or chairs,” Dominick said without hesitation. “Lobby, restaurant — a waiter or any hotel staff can reach under without raising suspicion. It’s the perfect blind spot for guests: close enough for someone to collect and fire before anyone can stop them. I expect more than one.”
Alex swallowed. “But… they could be in the rooms, or in the kitchen, or something, right?”
“No.” Dominick’s voice was flat, patient. “Rooms are the worst spot. A guest or a real staffer could stumble on one, panic and report it — the plan falls apart. Kitchen’s slightly better but still a bad choice: it’s busy, full of cooks and hands moving about, and everyone’s focused on food prep. Too many eyes. If a staff member finds a gun, they’ll raise an alarm just the same.”
"Public bathrooms are also a good location." he added, "I sent someone over there."
Carlo and Emilio shared a look that tightened at the edges — respect mixed with the cold weight of confirmation. The boys stood very still, the hotel’s noise pressing on the windows of their small, dangerous world.
“Alright… but why me and Dante?” Alex asked after hesitating.
“The trained men are busy monitoring the real threats,” Dominick said. “No time to waste trained bodyguards crawling under every table and chair like clowns. And if anyone sees two children doing that… they’ll just think you’re messing around.”
Alex frowned. “But there are too many tables and guests… eventually someone will notice.”
“Then distract them,” Dominick replied. “The old bastards glued to the handset can help with that.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Carlo and Emilio chuckled quietly. Indeed they were too close to the handset and Dominick knew them well.
“The parade outside was a perfect opportunity to carry out this plan,” Dominick continued, “but Carlo reported too late.”
Carlo nodded. “My bad, Dominick,” he said, loud enough that Dominick could hear it through the handset.
“I’m counting on you both, Alex. Dante. Today, you are saving lives.”
Alex felt the weight of the words in his palm, the plastic of the receiver suddenly heavier than it should be. Around them, the hotel hummed on, unaware, unthreatening, and the boys stepped back out into the crowd with the absurd, dangerous task laid at their feet.
The hotel’s grand lobby glowed with warm lights and music, the air full of laughter and soft chatter. Olivia sat quietly in her wheelchair near the marble column, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest as she watched the guests swirl past.
A few steps away, Don Silvano stood beside Katie, his hands folded behind his back as he spoke in a low voice.
“How’s she been doing lately?” he asked, his tone kind but edged with concern.
Katie sighed, keeping her gaze on her daughter. “The doctors say there’s no real progress. The therapy helps with her posture, but… she still can’t feel anything below the knees.”
Silvano nodded slowly, his brows furrowing. “Then we’ll try different doctors. I can assign one myself. The best I know.”
Katie glanced at him, touched by the offer. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft but full of quiet appreciation.
He smiled, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, ragazza. That girl’s got more spirit than half the men I know.”
Katie managed a faint smile. “She gets that from her father.”
Silvano chuckled under his breath, then walked over to Olivia. He leaned slightly so his voice would meet her at eye level.
“I’ll go check on your birthday cake, okay? Make sure they didn’t ruin it with too many candles.”
Olivia looked up at him, polite but distant. “Okay, Nonno.”
He gave her hair a fond pat before turning toward the kitchens. Katie watched him go, then turned back to her daughter.
Olivia’s gaze drifted to the floor, her mind clearly elsewhere, far from the bright lobby and the smiling guests. Once, she would have beamed at the mention of her cake, or tugged at her grandfather’s sleeve to come back soon. But today, her eyes stayed still, her thoughts heavy and quiet.
Katie crouched beside her, resting a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m happy we came here today,” she said quietly, her voice meant for Olivia alone.
Olivia nodded, her face unreadable — but her mother knew better.
“You made friends after all,” Katie added with a knowing smile. "Alex and Dante, you are getting along with them."
Olivia turned to her, hesitating. “Ma…”
Katie tilted her head. “Tell me, what is it, sweetheart?”
Olivia’s voice came small but steady. “I want to walk. I want to stand.”
Katie’s expression faltered. She bit her lip, her breath catching for a moment — then she gathered herself. “You will,” she said. “Someday you will. I know it.”
Olivia blinked up at her. “Really?”
Katie nodded, fierce now, her eyes shining. “I’ll do everything I can so you can stand, walk, and run like every other child out there.”
“But… how long?” Olivia asked. “I’ve been taking the shots and therapy… all my life.”
Katie’s hand tightened around hers. “I don’t care how long it takes. Never give up, Olivia. Never.”
Her voice rose, shaking slightly — not in anger, but in burning conviction. Olivia flinched, startled by the sudden passion in it.
Katie’s eyes glistened. “I wish I could give you my own legs,” she said, her voice trembling.
Olivia’s throat tightened. “But you wouldn’t be able to…”
Katie smiled through her tears. “My dream is to see you on your feet. I would die for that.”
Olivia’s eyes welled up. For the first time, she didn’t see her mother as the overprotective woman who hovered too close or nagged too much—but as the woman who had carried her for months, who had loved her through every tantrum, every stubborn silence. She realized, with a sudden ache, that she loved her mother far more deeply than she’d ever admitted to herself. And the thought that she had never shown it back—that she had made her mother doubt it—crushed her.
“No, Ma. I want us to walk together.”
That broke something in both of them. Katie leaned forward and pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace, arms wrapped tight as if she could somehow shield her from the world. Olivia clung to her, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder.
For a moment, the noise of the hotel faded — no music, no laughter, just the sound of two hearts beating together. Katie closed her eyes, seeing it in her mind: her daughter standing, taking her first steps, both of them walking side by side beneath the same light.
Neither wanted to let go.
Alex’s pulse hammered in his throat as they stepped back into the hotel’s grand lobby. The air was warm, scented with wine and flowers, and the murmur of polite laughter filled the space, but to him it all felt too loud, too bright, too crowded.
He looked left and right, scanning every waiter, every guest, every gloved hand reaching for a drink.
Dante, walking beside him, wore a calm mask, though his sharp eyes flicked restlessly between tables, chairs, and the slow-turning heads of the crowd. Neither of them had started the search yet. They were just two boys in the middle of a sea of danger, pretending they belonged.
Behind them, Don Carlo and Don Emilio moved with effortless grace, smiling, shaking hands, as if they were not the targets of a possible assassination that could happen anytime. The perfect image of composure, two predators disguised as gentlemen.
“Almost every table’s occupied,” Dante muttered under his breath. “Every chair too. We can’t do this without a distraction, buddy.”
Alex swallowed hard. “Yes… but what would it be?”
Both boys rubbed their chins, glancing up to the tall figures behind them.
“Ideas?” Dante asked quietly.
Don Emilio merely shrugged, his smirk betraying amusement.
Don Carlo said, “All these guests? We’ll have to wait until the dance, maybe.”
Alex frowned. “When is the dance? Can’t we do it now?”
“Not yet,” Emilio said smoothly. “Tradition. It comes after the cake and the birthday song.”
Carlo leaned in slightly. “We could start one now, but only a few will join. Two or three tables free, no more. We need something big.”
The two old men fell silent after that, their smiles unchanged... but their eyes lingered on the boys, studying them like lions watching their cubs learn to hunt.
Alex’s mind raced, empty and panicked. Dante’s too. Nothing came. The weight of silence pressed between them.
Then, from across the lobby, came the sound of a familiar voice.
“What’s going on? Something wrong?”
Olivia rolled up beside them in her wheelchair, with Lady Katie guiding her gently from behind. Both had noticed the boys’ tense faces.
Dante turned—
And froze. It hit him instantly, like a spark flaring to life. His eyes widened, his lips curving slowly into a grin.
Alex blinked at him. “What—?”
But Dante was already whispering fast. He leaned in close, and the two Dons followed, crouching slightly to listen. The whispered plan passed between them, and as it did, both men’s expressions shifted from curiosity to mild astonishment followed by amusement.
Katie tilted her head, glancing between the four of them. “What are you all whispering about?”
Dante straightened, flashing her a dazzling grin. “May I borrow her for a minute, Lady Katie?”
Katie blinked, caught off guard. “Ah—sure.”
Olivia frowned slightly. “You look way too excited all of a sudden.”
“Trust me,” Dante said, gripping the handles of her wheelchair. “You’ll love this.”
Without another word, he steered her quickly toward the small stage where the jazz band played a lively tune. The Dons followed in stride, their suits immaculate, their movements commanding attention. Alex stayed behind, slipping into the background, eyes sharpening.
Don Emilio raised a hand and called out with good-natured authority, “Attention, ladies and gentlemen!”
The chatter died almost instantly. Dozens of heads turned. The band quieted mid-song.
The old Don smiled broadly. “We have a very special departure tonight. A train — yes, a grand train — ready to leave the station. All aboard, if you please!”
Gasps and laughter rippled through the room. Emilio gestured toward Dante, who, smirking like a showman, raised his fist high — and gave a loud, perfect “Tooot-tooot!” that echoed through the marble lobby.
The first to move were the children — hesitant, giggling, glancing toward their parents for permission. Then, one by one, adults rose from their seats, drawn by the sheer absurdity and warmth of the moment.
And then, of all people—
Don Carlo stepped forward. The most composed man in the entire room, even among his two lifelong friends, Silvano and Emilio, set his glass aside with deliberate care. For a heartbeat, the room froze, watching him. Then, with quiet dignity, he placed his hands on Dante’s shoulders.
The guests looked at him, half in disbelief, half in joy.
And then the conga train began to move.
Olivia sat proudly at the front, her laughter breaking through her earlier stillness, her hands clutching the sides of her chair as it rolled forward. She couldn’t even name the feeling running through her. It was too bright, too unreal.
A ripple of gasps and chuckles spread. There he was, Don Carlo, the most sophisticated man in the hall, awkwardly marching in rhythm behind a boy half his size, his polished shoes squeaking faintly on the marble. But there was no mockery, only delight.
The guests erupted, laughter bursting through the room like champagne. One after another, they joined in: men, women, young and old. Some clapped, some held hands, some simply followed, swept up in the infectious rhythm of the “train” winding its way across the lobby.
It circled the walls first, an elegant parade that shouldn’t have existed in a place this grand. Then it dove between tables, gliding through narrow gaps, pulling more and more shy guests into its rhythm. A woman laughed until she cried; a child squealed as her father spun her around and joined in.
As the line passed, it tugged along anyone who lingered too close — waiters, guests, even the hotel manager, who couldn’t refuse a laughing noblewoman’s hand. The grand lobby transformed into a swirl of motion and color, like a living carnival.
And then—
From the far end of the hall came a thunderous voice:
“How dare you take off without me!”
Heads turned. Don Silvano — larger than life, his laugh booming — stormed toward the procession. The crowd roared with laughter, cheering him on as he hopped on.
Music flared again. The band, sensing the madness, leaned in with feverish joy — a quick ragtime rhythm filling the air, claps and laughter rising with it.
Olivia’s laughter rang above it all — clear, unguarded, the happiest sound in the room. Dante looked over his shoulder and saw her face alight with something he’d never seen before — freedom.
And in that moment, for all his composure, even Don Carlo’s weathered face softened. The lines of power, the weight of his sins — gone. Just a man among men, smiling, lost in something pure and human.
For that one impossible minute, nothing else mattered.
All but one boy joined.
In the corner, half-hidden behind the swirl of motion, Alex moved quietly from table to table. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of the music — fast, relentless.
While laughter rolled around him, his hands brushed beneath table edges, chair frames, feeling for the cold truth taped in secret.
While the world danced, he searched for the death hidden among them.
Then, after five tables—
he saw it.
A revolver, taped to the underside, just as Dominick guessed. Nearly invisible unless one crouched low and knew what to look for.
Alex swallowed hard. His fingers trembled slightly as he peeled the tape away. The cold metal sent a shiver crawling up his arm. Heavy, wrong, alive with threat. He slipped it under his tuxedo, every step suddenly louder in his ears.
He moved again, time pressing like a hand on his throat.
Another corner. Another table. Another revolver.
His tuxedo felt heavier now, the fabric tugging under the weight of steel. But there was still room for one more. He prayed there wouldn’t be.
He crouched beneath another table. This one close to the center of the lobby, laughter echoing just above his head. His breath hitched as his hand reached forward—
—then froze.
Fingers brushed his.
Another hand.
Alex looked up.
A waiter knelt across from him, eyes sharp and wrong — too focused, too calm for a man holding a serving tray.
For one suspended heartbeat, neither moved.
Only the music played on, bright and blind to the danger beneath the tablecloth.
?? Olivia and Katie’s little bonding moment: that hug between mother and daughter really hit me while writing it.
??? Alex’s quiet words to Dante, telling him he could reach Olivia.
?? Dominick’s sharp deduction over the phone: realizing exactly where the guns were hidden before anyone else.
?? And of course, that cliffhanger with the waiter… what do you think is about to happen next?
the train scene. It’s honestly one of my favorite moments in this entire arc and maybe in the novel so far. Seeing everyone, from the kids to the Dons, joining in that dance of laughter and chaos… it was pure joy to write.
follow the story to stay updated on every chapter. Your support means a lot!
Thank you for reading :)
?? Join the Community!
chat about the story, share theories, or help build a friendly, no-pressure community, you’re welcome to join my Discord:
-
Free to join, no profit or ads — just a place for fans and curious minds.
-
don’t have a RoyalRoad account, you can join and participate.
-