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Beneath the table, Pia's hand finds my thigh, a subtle yet profound gesture of support. Her touch elicits an influx of emotions—possessiveness, a protective instinct sharpened by the scars she bears from her brother's cruelty—all reaffirming my resolve. Her influence on me is unparalleled, and her strength and courage are a constant source of inspiration.
At this moment, the clarity of our mission sharpens. Protecting Pia and confronting Gerald are all part of securing a future free from the threat that's shadowed us for too long. Our strategy is set, and the determination to see this through is unmistakable.
With lunch behind us, we prepare ourselves for what comes next. Drawing Pia close, the world around us fades into insignificance as our lips meet. A passionate kiss seals the silent promises made in the maelstrom of our lives. Her breathless plea reaches deep as we part: "Come back to me, please."
I can't help but smile, and the tension momentarily lifts. "Baby girl, you're not going to get rid of me that easily." Her blush lights up the dimming space between us in response to my words as my fingers gently trace her lips.
Closing my eyes, I draw her into another embrace, her sweet floral scent surrounding me. "I love you," I whisper, the words a vow.
"And I love you," she echoes, her eyes locking with mine, a smile playing on her lips. "I'll see you soon."
With a final glance, I turn, my steps resolute. My brothers are beside me, and our allies are ready in another vehicle. The afternoon air carries omens of our impending actions, each of us wrapped in our determination.
Unbeknownst to Don Angelo, every vehicle, including his, carries a silent guardian of my design—bugs that ensure no detail of our plans can be leaked without my knowledge. The plan I've shared with him, a chess move, holds only a fraction of our actual strategy. In this game of shadows and light, revealing one's full hand is not an option. Our future, Pia's safety, hinges on the moves we're about to make, and I'm not one to play it by anything but my own rules.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marco
As our convoy spreads out, weaving through the traffic toward our interception point, I turn to my brothers, gratitude filling my voice. "Thanks again for being here for me," I start, but Diego interjects before I finish.
"This is what family does," he says, cutting through my thanks with the unspoken bond that ties us together.
Gabriel, always one to address the elephant in the room, shifts the conversation. "What's the deal with Pia's father, Don Angelo? Can we trust him?"
I gaze out the window, watching the city blur by as I contemplate his question. "I don't know," I admit, turning back to face them. "Part of me, for Pia's sake, wants to believe in his redemption. But the part of me that knows this life, the part of me that was raised in the shadows? I can't buy into his sudden change of heart. It feels like a farce. He thinks he's found a way to derail our plans, to save Gerald."
The substance of my words settles among us, and we share an understanding of the complexities of trust and betrayal in our world. We look out the windows, each lost in our thoughts, the cityscape a backdrop to the drama unfolding within us.
I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up under my fingers. Sending a text to Viktor, I leave nothing to chance. "Stay sharp. We're ending this today," I type, a silent prayer that he's out there, alive, ready to back us up. Gerald's time is running out, and if Don Angelo plays us, he's also signed his own fate. The message sent, I pocket the phone, calm settling over me. Today, we end this chapter, for Pia, for our family, for the future we're determined to secure.
En route to our rendezvous point, my phone buzzes with an incoming message on the secure app we've extensively discussed. The screen illuminates, revealing a notification from the IT staff in our Manila office—a team I've decided to retain now that Papá has officially declared the Philippines my territory.
When I open the message, my heart hitches at the mention of Viktor. I fear what I might learn next, but relief washes over me as I continue reading. Viktor has ingeniously faked his demise, deceiving Gerald's followers in a maneuver designed to sow false hope among our adversaries. His strategic feint is a masterstroke that will demoralize Gerald's ranks and buy us the crucial element of surprise.
I let out a sigh of relief and quickly type back, "How far out are they?"
The response is prompt: "They'll arrive approximately fifteen minutes after you. Everything's set, and we've ensured there won't be any unintended casualties. We're collaborating with the president's elite security team to weed out potential moles and discreetly manage road closures to avoid drawing law enforcement's attention."
A quick "Thanks" is all I manage before sharing the update with my brothers. "Viktor's alive. He played dead to mislead Gerald's team. They're following right into our trap," I inform them, the vehicle decelerating and veering off to the side of the road as I speak.
The vast, open field greets us as we pull over—a silent, sprawling witness to the impending showdown. I take a moment to center myself, drawing deep, steady breaths. I focus on the technique I've been practicing to stave off panic and anxiety, grounding myself in the present. I am determined to maintain control. Today, we end this, and I need to be at my best—for Pia, my family, and the future we are fighting to secure.
As we step out of the vehicles, the strain is almost tangible. The drivers waste no time retreating to a concealed location, leaving us to confront what's ahead. I find myself scrutinizing Don Angelo, whose demeanor is more that of a distressed father than of a seasoned cartel leader.
Don Melchor edges closer, breaking the silence with a note of admiration: "I hadn't anticipated we'd set the trap here, but it's a stroke of genius."
I barely acknowledge his comment, focusing on Don Angelo, searching for any hint of his true intentions. "A last-minute change of plans," I respond, not diverting my gaze.
Don Angelo, catching my scrutiny, questions me. "And the rest of the plans?"
I allow a smirk to cross my lips, offering a deliberately vague retort. "Let's just say not everything is meant to be shared."
His eyes narrow, suspicion evident. "If you think I'd betray you to save my son, you're mistaken," he counters. "My priority is Pia's safety. And then there's the matter with my wife…"
His unfinished thought hangs between us as a convoy appears in the distance, a menacing array of vehicles speeding toward us. Don Angelo's posture stiffens; everyone is on high alert, though our hidden allies, the Águilas Nocturnas, remain concealed, ready to strike.
"She'll be meeting an early grave," he concludes, his voice cold. The implication that he'd sanction his own wife's death sends a shiver through me.
