“Gia needed a toxicologist. Biagi owed me a favor.” He shrugs, deflecting like he always does. “Made a few calls.”
“Those calls kept me alive.”
Nico goes still. The mask slips for a second. His throat works. His eyes go glassy before he blinks it away.
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat. “Someone had to be useful.”
I don’t look away. Let him see I mean it.
Then I turn to Marco.
He’s still by the door. Shoulders tight. Braced for criticism. That’s what he gets from me, more often than not.
“Marco.”
He straightens.
“The call logs. The encrypted communications you found on Romano’s phone.” I study his face. “You brought them to Cassia instead of me or Renzo. Why?”
His shoulders square. “Because you would have dismissed me. She used them and found the traitor.”
Smart. Smarter than I gave him credit for.
“You were right.” I let the words land. “Good work.”
His whole body changes. Tension drops from his shoulders. His eyes widen, then narrow, searching my face for the catch.
Seven years. I kept him out.Dio.Told myself it was protection. It was cowardice.
“When this is done,” I say, “we talk. About your role. What comes next.”
He nods. His jaw sets to keep it steady. His fists unclench at his sides, finger by finger, like he’s letting go of something he’s been gripping for years.
I look at Cassia. She’s watching me, her chin lifted, her fingers pressing into mine.
She saw my youngest brother when no one else bothered to look. Equipped my family with what they needed to save me.
“Operations,” I say, shifting back. “What’s the status?”
Renzo answers. “Zio Pietro’s handling day-to-day. I’ve doubled security on all properties.” A pause. “The Benedettis are gone.”
“Gone.”
“Stefano and Flavio cleared out twelve hours after Romano disappeared. Private plane to Milan. By the time we tracked the flight, they’d connected somewhere else. Could be anywhere by now.”
They ran. The second they knew Romano was compromised, they ran.
Fuck.
“The lawyer? Fontaine?”
“Dead. Found in his office this morning. Made to look like a heart attack.” Renzo’s hand stills at his side. “They’re cleaning house. Cutting every thread that leads back to them.”
Cowards. They tried to kill me, and now they’re running.
“They can’t run forever.”
“No.” Renzo’s voice is flat. “They can’t.”
