Chapter 2 - The Anatomy of a Parasite
The walk back to the wait station felt like walking through molasses. Adrenaline was finally beginning to crash through Nevie’s system, leaving a cold, jittery ache in her fingers. Gerard intercepted her halfway, his hands trembling as he grabbed her shoulders.
"Are you insane?!" Gerard hissed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched squeak. "Do you have a death wish, Nevie? Do you know who Leandro Perry is? They own half the shipping ports in the tri-state area! They could buy this restaurant, bulldoze it into the harbor, and turn it into a parking lot before midnight!"
"Then I wouldn't have to clean up after stockbrokers anymore," Nevie muttered, sliding past him to grab a fresh tray of water glasses. Her hands were shaking slightly now, betraying the icy facade she had maintained in front of Table 4.
"This isn't a joke!" Gerard whispered frantically, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Leandro didn't kill you, which means you've caught his interest. And in our world, catching a shark's interest doesn't mean you're special—it means you're bleeding in the water."
Nevie ignored him, loading the tray and heading back out to the floor. But as she scanned the dining room, she noticed something strange. Table 4 was empty.
Leandro and Stella had gone. The thick wad of hundred-dollar bills was still sitting on the tablecloth, abandoned beside the ruined sea bass like an offering left at an altar. The surrounding tables of Perry associates were murmuring among themselves, casting nervous, sideways glances toward the exit.
For the rest of the shift, the atmosphere in Laura was thick with unease. Diners rushed their meals, paid their bills with oversized tips, and cleared out early. By 11:00 PM, the restaurant was completely dead. When Nevie finally clocked out at midnight, stripping off her soaked white button-down and changing into her faded canvas jacket in the cramped employee locker room, her heart was still hammering against her ribs.
She stepped out the back alley door into the chilly October air, pulling her jacket tight against the wind. The alleyway behind Laura was narrow, flanked by towering brick walls and flickering neon signs from the neighboring jazz club. It was a shortcut to the subway station, dark and usually empty at this hour.
She hadn't taken three steps before the low, menacing rumble of a heavy engine echoed off the brick walls.
A matte-black sedan slid silently out of the shadows, blocking the end of the alley. Its headlights were off, casting a deep, ominous shadow over the pavement. The rear passenger door clicked open, and a tall, impeccably tailored figure stepped out into the damp night air.
Leandro Perry.
Nevie stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand slipped into her jacket pocket, her fingers closing around her heavy metal keychain—a poor excuse for a weapon, but the only thing she had.
"You walk home late, Miss Brown," Leandro said, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. He took two slow steps toward her, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his wool coat. There were no bodyguards in sight, which made him infinitely more terrifying. Men like Leandro Perry didn't need guards when they were the ones pulling the triggers.
"If you're here to finish what your sister started, you're wasting your time," Nevie said, forcing her voice to remain steady, though her throat felt dry as dust. "I don't scare easily, Mr. Perry. And I certainly don't negotiate in alleys."
Leandro stopped a few feet away. In the dim amber light of the streetlamp, his sharp, angular features looked carved from stone. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if trying to solve a complex mathematical equation that refused to balance.
"My sister is a fool," Leandro said flatly, surprising her with his brutal candor. "She spends her life trying to assert dominance over people who serve her coffee because she knows, deep down, she has no actual power in our organization. Women in my family are expected to be ornaments—silent partners in a violent enterprise. She resents it, so she inflicts her helplessness on anyone weaker than her."
Nevie blinked, lowering her keychain slightly. "And you? Are you here to explain your family dynamics, or are you going to threaten me?"
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"I am here to make a proposition," Leandro said, his eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "Because for the last five years, everyone who has ever looked at me has either looked at me with fear, greed, or servile obedience. You looked at me like I was an inconvenience. And my sister like she was a spoiled child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store."
He took another step closer, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur. "I need someone who isn't afraid of my family. I need someone who can see through the noise. And as it turns out, Laura's restaurant doesn't pay you enough to deal with the kind of garbage you survived tonight. I want to hire you."
