“Find Bruno and lock him up in the warehouse,” he ordered. “Until I decide what to do with him.”
Ramiro hesitated again.
That hesitation alone felt like rebellion in this house.
“There’s more,” Ramiro added carefully.
“Speak.”
Ramiro exhaled sharply. ““The only reason Bruno went public—why he’s the one who exposed everything to the Italians—is because he’s under their protection now.”
The words landed heavier this time.
“He has betrayed the clan,” Ramiro continued, voice tightening.
“He’s crossed over. He’s with the Italians. And we can’t just go into their territory and pull him out,” he added, steadying himself. “That would be a declaration of war.”
Rafael’s dark eyes burned.
But it wasn’t uncontrolled rage anymore.
It was something more terrifying.
Betrayal.
From blood.
From family.
My gaze stayed fixed on him despite myself.
Rafael slowly lifted his head.
And when he spoke, his voice was no longer just angry.
It was absolute.
“He has crossed the ultimate line. Not even the promise I made to my mother can shield him now. Gather every single one of our men. Call in the crews from the docks, the warehouses, the streets. I want every soldier, every associate, every fucking ghost who owes us. Find him. Hunt him like the rat he is.”
His gaze hardened.
“Kill every single Italian soul that stands in your way. Flood the streets with their blood if you have to. Leave a trail of corpses from here to his hiding hole. Make them remember what it means to betray this family.”
His voice dropped lower, almost calm.
“Bring Bruno to me alive. I want to look him in the eyes when he realizes there’s no escape. No mercy. No last words that will move me. I’ll carve his heart out of his chest myself—slowly—while he’s still breathing. I’ll make him feel every second of the pain he thought he could inflict on us.”
Ramiro nodded immediately. “Yes, boss.”
But I barely heard it.
Because I was still looking at Rafael.
At the way his composure had shifted.
“Triple the security around every member of this household,” he continued, his voice dropping into that commanding timbre that brooked no argument.
“I want rotating teams on the perimeter—armed, vetted, and loyal to the bone. No one gets within a hundred yards without my explicit clearance. Install fresh surveillance on every entrance, every window, every goddamn shadow that falls across our grounds.”
