Chapter 5 - MORNING BREAKFAST AND SILENT THREATS
At 6:00 AM, the front bell chimed as regular customers—local tradesmen and neighborhood cops—beginning rattling the door for their morning coffee. Panic flared in Ella’s chest, but Dante remained entirely composed. He changed into a spare black cook's shirt Ella provided, hid his shoulder holster beneath an oversized apron, and instructed her to act normally while he stayed hidden in the back. Ella served scrambled eggs and black coffee with trembling hands, fielding questions about the strange noises during the night. She managed to brush them off, realizing that her quiet life in South Boston was officially dead and gone.
The morning rush at Sullivan’s was usually a comforting blur of routine, but today every clatter of a ceramic mug felt like a gunshot. Officer Miller, a veteran Southie cop who usually flirted half-heartedly over his pancakes, paused at the counter and sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Smells like bleach in here, Ella,” Miller noted, narrowing his eyes. “Deep clean?”
“Pipe backed up in the back corridor,” Ella lied smoothly, keeping her voice level despite her hammering pulse. “Had to sanitize the whole floor. You know how old these buildings are.”
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Miller grunted, tossing a few crumpled bills onto the Formica counter. “Be careful. Heard rumblings downtown last night. Some high-level turf war brewing around the shipping docks. Keep your doors locked tight after hours.”
Inside the pantry, hidden behind the heavy door, Dante listened to every word, his hand resting on the grip of his concealed firearm. He knew Sal Romano’s men wouldn't just search the alleys; they would start checking local businesses, hospitals, and pharmacies for supplies. Time was running out, and the bubble of safety at Sullivan’s Diner was about to burst.
