Page 102 of No Greater Oblivion

“Don’t elaborate. Make it clear you’re relaying to them everything you know, word for word. Regina might try to force more information out of you but you have to make it seem as if there isn’t any more information to share.” Dimitrio instructs. “Call us when it’s done and we’ll go from there.”

“I’ll want to know if either of them is planning a retaliation,” I say. “I doubt Sandro will; he’s too vulnerable right now and knows I won’t actually hurt Monse. Regina, on the other hand…”

Ferrer speaks with an emotion I find difficult to identify over the phone. “Yes…so I’ve noticed.”

We end the call and Dimitrio sinks back in his seat with a sigh. “Sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I always do.”

The last few months of planning have all led up to this. Little by little, I’ve chipped away at what Sandro treasures most. It’s always been about power, money, and influence for him. Without his capos and his footmen, he has no power. Without his drug business he has no money and with his legitimate enterprises sinking under crippling debt, he’s losing influence. Soon, he won’t be able to keep control of his own territory and his rivals will pick apart at what he’s left behind. One day, he'll be surrounded by enemies with no way out. And I could’ve stopped there.

However, snatching Monse was personal.

I have no intention of hurting Montserrat—I’m incapable of it. Although we’re the same age, she always reminded me of Lettie and as the younger twin, I followed Regina’s lead and treated her like a little sister. Despite my fondness for her, I wasn’t going to let Sandro’s assassination attempt on Dahlia go unanswered.

He won’t retaliate because in doing so it would make him vulnerable. He doesn’t have the manpower to spare and if he went to the twelve families, he could be implicating himself. Sure, I’d land in hot water for taking Montserrat but the second the other families ask me why I did it, I won’t hesitate to tell them the whole truth. At which point, Sandro will lose the very few allies he has left…if any. Which means Sandro will spend the next few weeks agonizing over where Montserrat is, if she’s okay, and what I have planned for her. Not to mention that Regina will make every second of his life a living hell until he gets her sister back.

Regina isn’t completely innocent but I wouldn’t consider her guilty either. More like collateral damage I’m very happy to see get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m assuming Dahlia can’t find out.”

I sit back in my seat and rub my jaw. With all the grinding I’ve been doing lately, it’s a miracle the tension hasn’t cracked any of my molars. “No…she can’t.”

“Have you thought of how you’re going to swing that?” Dimitrio fixes me with a look. “For one, she’s going to notice half the security detail is gone.”

“And we were supposed to spend New Year’s at the villa with Abuelo. I told my grandfather we had a change in plans but I didn’t tell Dahlia.”

“Tell her we’re going to Vallvidrera instead. She won’t be suspicious.”

“She’s more intuitive than you give her credit for.” I remark. “And my grandfather isn’t exactly subtle. To be honest, I don’t think I want them in the same room together. At least not until all of this is settled. Abuelo isn’t above using Dahlia to sway my opinion and I’d like to avoid a confrontation like that at all costs.”

“Hm,” Dimitrio considers this a moment. “So you’ll spend the holidays here?”

“We could always extend our stay in New York. I might’ve had a hard time convincing her before when Dahlia had her heart set on spending our first Christmas in the new house.” I get up and finally remove my coat and suit jacket desperate to rid myself of all these heavy winter layers. “But Karina’s parents are separating and I know Dahlia will want to be there for her.”

My cousin studies me a moment. “That seems a little manipulative. Doesn’t it?”

I unholster my gun and drop it on the desk. “And so what if it is?”

“If Dahlia finds out⁠—”

“Dahlia’s never going to find out,” I fire back. “And if she ever does…then so be it.”

25

THE WAY THINGS USED TO BE

Dahlia

The Present

New York City

Alejandro drags a hand down the length of his face and closes the last folder Morales brought with him. The FBI agent glances out the window, making sure half his face is concealed by the curtain as he examines the street. Either he’s paranoid or hyper observant; can’t tell.

“Well?” I ask.

For the first time, Alejandro speaks of Rian without animosity or resentment, only deeply felt sympathy. “I can’t believe Huang would do this to him. They’ve been friends their entire lives.”