Potere | Book II ✓

xiii | incognito

xiii | incognito

a/n: lol @ the millions of comments saying faith is going to "become an assassin." have...ya'll been reading the book? the sheer trama every one of my assassin's have gone through is NOTHING compared to losing....a mom.  if anything, losing her mother will strengthen her and mold her and help her comfortably reign as k—queen when she needs to be.

but faith will not be hip-hopping alongside buildings and sniping innocent women and children anytime soon so pls. stop. ur desperation for a female assassin is showing.

previously on potere...

steven finds the name of diavolo's former trainer and schedules a meeting.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

When I say Liam Elijah Luciano moves like the president, I don't mean by the way he walks.  Where each step he takes radiates a certain level of power, confidence, and dignity.  I mean it by the way he travels.

Three of the most recent modeled Cadillac Escalade's idle in a half-moon right outside the grand doors of our home, their headlights illuminating the structure of the house.  Two out of three of the SUV's are just decoys, positioned in front and behind the vehicle Liam and I will be riding in.  Their purpose is simple; protection, and from what I understand, will be carrying a group of soldiers – just in case.

All of the SUV's Liam owns look the same.  Blacked out. From the shimmering rims to the tinted, bulletproof windows.  The body of the vehicle matches the black windows, blending so seamlessly that you can hardly tell where they meet.  Even the rims and the wheels match.  It's done so well in fact, that in the dead of night, with the lights switched off, the SUV can vanish.

Disappear.

Incognito.

The night is still young by the time I step out on the porch, overlooking the organized chaos below.  A breeze ruffles through my recently pressed hair and a few strands tickle the back of my neck.  Carmen helped me get dressed for tonight, plucking out a short, black off-the-shoulder dress that was perfect for this formal, yet not-so-formal occasion of meeting Angel Ferrari, Diavolo's former trainer.

Not only did she do my hair, pick my outfit, freshen up my makeup, and throw a perfect pair of opened-toed heels in my direction, she made me feel beautiful for the first time in a very, very long time.

Carmen didn't just prep me for my night at the club, Poison, but she talked – and she talked a lot.  She told me a little about her childhood, like how she was born in Tijuana, Mexico, where her father, Sancho Vega worked as a cop and her mother, Alisa, worked as a school teacher.  But she doesn't remember the brief time she spent, only because by the time she was four, they ran.  They ran from a gang that was gunning for her father, her mother, and for her as well.

They laid low in California for a couple days, before catching a flight to Detroit, Michigan, where they had family.

And that is how Carmen and Federico's stars aligned.

They met a year later.

She didn't just tell me stories that her parents told her.  While drawing the flatiron down the last section of my hair she mentioned something that was concerning her.  Something I didn't know about – or realize, for that matter – until she said something.

She hadn't seen Dominic all day.

I wouldn't have batted an eyelash at the news if we were still at the Luciano home, castle, whatever the hell you want to call the enormous house that Liam had constructed for the large group of men that're willing to not only die for him, but for me as well.  The place is huge, and I swear I discover a new wing every time I visit.  The hallways are long.  They twist, turn, and lead to rooms that even the people who live there don't know about.