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"It worked with Santorum," Luca agrees. "Having the Superintendent under our thumb is useful."
My hand crashes down on the polished mahogany, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Glasses shudder. Heads turn.
The room goes silent, every eye locked on me.
"No. He's been dirty for too long to be easily controlled," I growl. "The motherfucker murdered my parents. He has his own daughter seeking solace in my arms. He deserves death."
The silence stretches on. I don't think anyone knows what to say, but I want Alessepo out of power. Until he falls from his perch, his daughter will live in fear. That's not acceptable to me.
"He's right," Gabriel finally mutters, meeting my gaze across the table. "If I could go back and do it again with Santorum, I'd have killed him." He shifts his gaze from me to Rafe. "We only control what we know, and there's far too much we don't know when they're surrounded by other badges all day, every day. I'd rather not have to look for a fucking target on our backs every goddamn day. Santorum was too much of a coward to move against us. Alessepo isn't. If we try to control him, it'll blow up in our faces."
We all know there's no silence like that waiting behind that particular line, and no brotherhood like it either. Even if we get Alessepo under our thumb, there's no guarantee we keep him there. If he betrays us to his brotherhood, it ends badly for all of us. With Santorum, it was easier. He was a bitch. Alessepo has been dirty for twenty-five years. We all know his brothers have swept his crimes under the rug in that time. If he runs to them now, we become the hunted.
That's not a risk any of us want to take.
"I'll make it look like a gang hit. No ties to us." I'm not asking for permission—there's no need. They can see the writing on the wall just as clearly as I can. "Once he's gone, Karina's safe and any threat to our operations dies with him."
Rafe's hand rests heavily on the tabletop, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Think this through, Coda," he says, his voice soft. The man never yells. His voice carries command without him raising it. "Miles isn't just some two-bit crook. He's connected—more than you realize. Take him out, and you're not just poking the bear. You're declaring war on the entire force."
I feel the weight of his gaze, the obsidian depths of his eyes boring into me. I stand on the edge of a looming decision, with massive consequences stretching out before me, and Rafe knows it. He's seen more war, brokered more peace, and buried more enemies than any of us. His caution is a mantle resting heavily on my shoulders.
"Provoking him isn't just about revenge. It's playing roulette with everything we've built," he continues.
"Understood," I grunt. "But he took my parents from me, and now he's terrorizing Karina. He dies. That's non-negotiable."
Rafe nods once, accepting my decision as easily as if he made it himself. He may be Capo, but he put us in charge for a reason. He knows I don't make this decision lightly. But he knows what it is to lose a parent violently. And he knows what it is to risk it all to defend a woman. If anyone understands the path stretching before me, he does. He's walked it.
By the time I reach my place, I'm all but vibrating with pent-up energy, a caged beast prowling in his cage. I need to see her, touch her. Cristo. Fuck her.
She meets me at the door, her hair falling around her like silk. Her eyes reflect the same raw hunger coursing through me. She doesn't say a word; she doesn't need to. Her body colliding with mine says it all.
"God, I missed you," she breathes against my chest.
"Every second, angioletta." I inhale her scent—sunshine in a world of gunpowder and blood. Cristo. Just the smell of her makes my dick hard.
She leans up, seeking my mouth. I let her have it. Her lips are my salvation, each kiss fortification against sins yet to be committed.
Rafe's warning resonates against my skull as I press Karina against the entryway wall. I'm torn between the relentless drive to obliterate the man who destroyed my world and now threatens her safety and the risks that come with such a vendetta.
"Karina," I growl, my voice like gravel.
She responds to the need in my voice on instinct, reaching for my cock. Her hand wraps around me through my pants, searing me even through the fabric in a way that no ink ever could.
"Fuck," I hiss, all thoughts of Rafe's warning and her father vanishing as she undoes my belt, her grip tightening around me.
I gently push her down, guiding her to her knees. Her eyes are pools of liquid fire as she looks up at me, my dick in her hand. "Show me you're mine, cara."
Without hesitation, her lips part, her sweet breath washing across the head of my cock. She sucks me in deep, obliterating me with her obedience. We fall into a rough rhythm, the kind that borders on sacred and profane.
My fingers tangle in her hair, grounding myself to earth as she consumes me. Her mouth is a velvet vise threatening to unravel my restraint.
It's what she wants. I see it in her eyes. I feel it in her touch.
"Karina," I rasp, her name rooting me to earth as much as my hands in her hair do. I rock into her mouth, rough and unsteady, desperate and aching. The intensity of her gaze never falters. She takes everything I give her, every punishing thrust, begging with those pretty gray eyes for more.
I groan, thrusting into her mouth again as my balls draw up. And as I hold her there, the world outside ceases to exist. There's only her. There's only this. There's only love. Cristo. I love her.
I pull her up into my arms, pressing her back against the wall as my mouth comes down on hers. I pour the emotion into her, branding her with it. Does she feel it? Does she know?
