Chapter 5 - The Master of the Port
Tobias Cain stepped through the west double doors behind Gideon.
He was a broad-shouldered, unhurried man in his mid-forties who moved with the unmistakable, disciplined grace of someone who had once worn a military uniform. He crossed the polished floor with heavy strides and leaned down to whisper something directly into Gideon’s ear.
He spoke in rapid, fluent Sicilian.
It was a matter of ingrained habit rather than strict operational secrecy—the way old-school New Orleans aristocracy might lapse into dialect when speaking among trusted family. In the underworld of the Crescent City, Sicilian had been a safe, functional language for as long as both men had breathed.
Gideon listened to the report without changing his expression. Then he answered in English, offering just a few flat, ordinary words that carried the weight of an anchor hitting the ocean floor.
Cain’s thick eyebrows rose perhaps half a millimeter before he successfully concealed his reaction.
Across the wide expanse of the ballroom, Camille suddenly raised her head.
She didn't know why, but a strange, prickly sensation crawled up the back of her neck. Something about the cadence of that whispered exchange had sounded distinctly familiar—the exact same cadence, rhythm, and dialect her grandfather used to use when discussing old shipping manifests in the French Quarter docks.
Her hand remained firmly clamped on the metal handle of her mop bucket as she tried to pinpoint why the moment felt so unsettling.
She couldn't quite place it.
Gideon muttered one final short sentence to Cain, turned on his heel, and began walking toward the exit.
His path took him within twelve feet of where Camille stood holding her cleaning supplies.
He didn't slow down. He didn't cast a theatrical glance in her direction. He didn't pause on the marble stairs, or while crossing the floor, or as the heavy doors parted for him.
May you like
Not once did he look at her.
Yet, as the west doors silently hissed shut behind him, leaving the ballroom in a state of stunned, breathless quiet, Camille felt the lingering charge in the air—a quiet promise that the world she had known until tonight was gone forever, and that the shadows were finally beginning to move.
