"We're going to stop it and we're going to kill every man involved and we're going to burn that facility to the ground."
"Good."
I lean into him on instinct, enough that he understands I’m there, but not enough to invade his space if he doesn’t want me to. A deep sigh escapes from his chest and the way he looks at me almost breaks my heart. His hand finds mine and our fingers lace together and we stand in the corridor outside a dying man's room. We hold on to each other while the world gets uglier and the war gets bigger and everyone breathes around us with the slow, tired pulse of people that just learned what they’re really fighting for.
Gigi used to say that the world isn't cruel because bad men exist. It's cruel because good men look away.
Nobody in this compound is looking away anymore.
Chapter Nine: Emilio
Leonesendsmetonegotiate with the Castillos because apparently my most valuable skill set is being likable under threat of death.
"You want me to walk into a Castillo restaurant and tell their underboss that his family has been running cover for a child trafficking operation," I say, standing in Leone's office at seven in the morning with coffee I haven't finished and a headache I haven't started treating. "And you want me to do this without getting shot."
"I want you to do this and come back with an alliance."
"An alliance… with the Castillos. The family that sent four men into our east wing three days ago."
"The family that sent four men into our east wing because they're scared and desperate and fighting a war they don't understand against an enemy they can't see. Same as us." Leone leans back in his chair. He looks worse every day. The bags under his eyes are big enough to cradle a fucking baby, and the stubble on his jaw has crossed from sauve into neglect. "The trafficking changes everything, Emilio. This isn't about territory anymore. Both families have been played. Both families have blood on their hands they didn't know about. If I go to the Castillos with that information, it's an accusation. If you go, it's a conversation."
"Because I'm charming."
"Because you're the only person in this compound who can sit across from a hostile underboss and make him feel like the conversation was his idea."
"That's a fancy way of saying I'm charming."
He rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh. "Take Carmelo for backup. Don't bring guns into the restaurant, but make sure Carmelo is visible. His presence communicates enough."
"Carmelo's presence communicates that someone is about to stop breathing."
"Exactly." Leone hands me a folder. Inside are photographs from the marina surveillance, financial records from Alexandra's analysis, satellite images of the Apex Meridian Holdings facility, and a printout of the shipping manifests showing eighteenmonths of containers that went in full and came out empty. "Show him everything. Hold nothing back. If we're going to do this, we do it with full transparency. They need to see what we see."
"And if he doesn't believe me?"
"Then we fight Kreiss alone and the Castillos keep being cover for a trafficking pipeline without knowing it, and in six months when this comes out publicly, they burn." Leone stands. "He'll believe you. The evidence is too strong, and the implications are too ugly for denial. No man who runs a crime family wants to find out he's been protecting pedophiles. That's not a pride issue, that's an extinction-level event for any organization that relies on community tolerance to operate."
He's right. The mafia exists because neighborhoods let it exist. Because the protection works, because the money flows, because the violence stays between men who chose the life and doesn't touch the people who didn't. The second a family gets connected to trafficking kids, that tolerance evaporates and every cop, every federal agent, every journalist who's been looking the other way suddenly develops a conscience. The Castillos can't afford that any more than we can.
"When?" I ask.
"Tonight. I've already reached out through back channels. Castillo's underboss, a man named Renzo Ferrara, will meet you at Marcello's on Fifth at eight. Neutral ground, publicenough that nobody starts shooting, private enough that the conversation stays between you."
"Renzo Ferrara. The guy with the scar."
"The guy with the scar and a reputation for listening before reacting, which is why he's the underboss and not the dozens of louder men who wanted the job. He's reasonable, Emilio. Approach him with respect and evidence and let the information do the work."
I take the folder and leave. In the corridor I run into Savannah coming back from the kitchen with a mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, and the sight of her in the morning light with crumbs on her shirt and sleep still in her eyes makes me want to go caveman and drag her up the stairs.
"You look like you're going somewhere," she says.
"Castillo meeting tonight. Leone's sending me to broker an alliance."
Her eyebrows go up. "An alliance. With the people who shot at us three days ago."
"The trafficking changes the math. Both families got played. Leone thinks if we show them the evidence, they'll want blood as badly as we do."
"And if they don't?"
