The restaurant was cordoned off three blocks in every direction.
Snipers nestled behind tinted windows. Undercover guards in delivery vans. Surveillance drones disguised as pigeons. It was the usual protocol whenever all six mafia territory leaders gathered in one place.
And right now, inside the heart of it all, Leo and Nox walked into the mirrored dining room like ghosts dressed in black.
Dominik was already waiting by the bar, fussing over the floral arrangements like a wedding planner.
"Thank God you're here," he whispered, voice nearly a sob. "They put the napkins on the wrong side of the plate, again. And the wine is from the wrong vineyard. It's not even aged ten years, Leo. Ten!"
Leo looked unimpressed. "You slit a man's throat with a coaster last week."
"And I'll do it again if they serve me lukewarm soup tonight." Dominik dramatically dabbed his eyes with a silk handkerchief.
Nox stared at him with deadpan weariness. "You cry over napkins, but not over killing six men in an alley with a wire ?"
"That's art, darling. This—" he flung his hand at the setup "—is tragedy."
Leo gave a faint chuckle. Nox didn't, but his silence had a softness to it. That was enough.
The mafia OGs began arriving—each more adorned in vintage jewelry and threat-soaked charm than the last. Leo recognized most from family photos and silent meetings he wasn't allowed to speak in as a child.
This was his debut.
But no one dared underestimate the boy who walked in with the Phantom at his side.
They were seated in order. Territory colors glimmered at each end of the table. Leo's father, the Kingpin of Sector V, sat like a shadow throne in the center.
Dominik hovered behind him, dramatically pouring wine with the flair of a sommelier mid-mental breakdown.
Nox sat beside Leo without a word.
His gloved hand rested near the steak knife. His posture loose but alert. Face half-hidden behind the mask. Not speaking unless spoken to.
The OGs noticed, of course. Everyone noticed.
But no one addressed it.
Because when Leo casually leaned over during the soup course and murmured something into Nox's ear—too quiet for even the guards to hear—and Nox gave the faintest nod in reply?
The entire room tensed.
Leo didn't smile. But he looked far too calm for someone surrounded by the most dangerous men in the country.
One of the older dons raised his glass. "Didn't expect the Phantom would be dining with us. Thought you preferred alleyways and bodybags."
Nox tilted his head just slightly. "Only when the company's worse."
Laughter broke across the table, low and wary.
Dominik nervously giggled and spilled a few drops of wine.
The dinner continued without incident. Politics. Trade. Territory etiquette. Leo answered questions when addressed, letting his father lead most of the negotiations.
But every now and then, the OGs noticed it again—the subtle way Leo handed Nox the salt without looking. The way Nox leaned slightly into Leo's space when someone raised their voice. The silent glances. The cigarette Leo slipped into Nox's fingers on their way out. Not a word exchanged.
But something had shifted.
And it unsettled them more than any overt show of power.
After Dinner. In the back lot.
Dominik was pacing in circles by the car, clutching his scarf like a woman in distress.
"I swear if one of those old bastards calls me Dominique again, I'm going to put arsenic in the appetizer next time."
Leo leaned against the hood. "You cried when your son got his first confirmed hit."
"He's twelve!"
Nox finally spoke, tone flat. "He got blood on my coat."
Dominik whirled on him. "He's a child!"
"He's a hazard."
Leo snorted. "You two need couple's therapy."
"I will kill you," Dominik muttered, then turned back to his pacing.
In the car, the silence was familiar.
Leo slumped slightly against the seat, exhaling smoke. "You didn't have to show up, y'know."
Nox didn't answer immediately.
Then, "It was necessary."
Leo glanced sideways. "For diplomacy?"
"For you."
Leo stared at the glowing skyline for a moment, something quiet unfolding behind his eyes.
He didn't press.
They returned to the dorm late, suits shed for hoodies and sweatpants, blades returned to drawers and traps reset on windowsills.
Leo flopped onto the couch, scrolling through movie options.
Nox stepped out of the bathroom, bandaging a shallow scratch on his arm from the dinner.
Leo pointed with the remote. "You know, if the other students saw you like this, you'd be the campus heartthrob. You should take off the mask more often."
Nox didn't blink. "i like hiding it ."
Leo smirked. "Coward."
Nox flicked a cigarette at his face. Leo caught it midair, lit it, and leaned back.
Silence.
Peace.
Even with the ghosts between them, the shadows outside, the bloodied hands and mafia legacy—
They'd found something real.
Not friendship. Not love.
But something solid.
Something that didn't need to be named.
Just shared.
End of Chapter 57