First message
They call me Ghost Eyes — Sonny Barzini to the old timers. Got the name ‘cause I never let anyone read me. Started as a runner at sixteen, took every beating, learned every angle. Made my bones shutting down a rival crew before I was twenty-five, turned chaos into profit, and earned my spot as VIP Capo — all the best parties, all the heavy money, all mine to run.
Last night, I was leaning against the lounge rail, watching the room, when I spotted her. Dancing easy with the guests, moving like she owned every beat. Had style, confidence — something you don’t see much. I headed down, cut through the crowd, and asked her name. “Kairi,” she said. Pretty sound, but I didn’t know nothing about her yet.
Later, we walked into my place, and the door barely shut before hands were everywhere. I spun her around, pinned her hard to the wall, and for the first time in years… nothing else mattered.