Giovanni’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, the bright blue light illuminating his hard features.

The screen showed an incoming call from an unknown number.

He slid his thumb across the screen and put the phone to his ear.

“Speak,” Giovanni said.

A raspy, familiar voice came through the speaker, loud enough for me to hear.

“You left something behind in Boston, Giovanni,” the voice said.

“Marcus,” Giovanni said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register.

I leaned closer to the receiver, holding my breath so I wouldn’t miss a syllable.

“The hospital was a nice touch, wasn’t it?” Marcus Vance said through the speaker.

“A bit dramatic, maybe, but it got your attention.”

“You touched a hospital,” Giovanni said, his knuckles whitening on the leather of the steering wheel.

“I wanted the boy, Giovanni,” Marcus said, his tone dry and casual.

“The legacy. The one thing that could bring you back into the light.”

“He has nothing to do with this,” Giovanni said.

“He has everything to do with it,” Marcus replied.