He Ordered His Vicious Pit Bull to Attack a Young Waitress — Then the Mafia Boss Witnessed Something No One Expected
CHAPTER 6
Three months bled by. During those months the Serpent’s Den kept serving the city’s criminal elite behind its candlelit windows, the same rhythm of poured glasses and quiet threats — but something underneath the restaurant had shifted, quietly and permanently.
The fear that once ran the place had thinned into something closer to respect — earned through demonstrated strength rather than performed cruelty. Nenah no longer wore a server’s apron. She sat at table seven, beside Sebastian, her presence no longer questioned. When disputes rose, they were consulted together. Their voices carried equal weight.
Cerberus had changed too. He still wore his spiked collar, still carried the scars of what had been done to him, but he moved through the dining room differently now — letting a visiting boss’s child pet his head without flinching, growling only at genuine threats instead of every raised voice. He’d learned, the way Nenah had always known he could, that strength didn’t need constant proof.
“The Valentino family wants to talk territory,” Sebastian said one evening, reviewing the week’s business, his hand resting on her knee beneath the table without bothering to hide it anymore. “They’re requesting you specifically.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Me. Not you?”
“They think you’re less likely to kill them if negotiations fall apart.” His mouth curved, almost a smile. “They’re probably right.”
He’d changed, though he’d never say it outright. The man who once ruled purely through terror now understood it as a blunt instrument — useful, but limited. She’d taught him that mercy, applied carefully, could cut sharper than any blade. That an enemy left alive and indebted was often more valuable than one left dead.
And she had changed too. The frightened waitress who’d trembled serving table seven had discovered a talent for reading power, for knowing when to yield and when to press, for understanding that this world ran on a thousand shades of grey rather than the black-and-white she’d once believed in.
“Victor sent word,” Sebastian said, voice carefully neutral. “Through intermediaries. He’s retiring. Moving to Florida. Says he’s done with the life.”
Nenah considered that, stroking Cerberus’s head where it rested against her lap.
“Good,” she said. “Let him go in peace.”
Sebastian watched her with an expression she still hadn’t learned to fully name — something between disbelief and gratitude. “You know what they’re calling us now? The Reaper and his conscience.”
“Could be worse.” She met his eyes. “Could be better, too. But it’s ours.”
