"With you."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"However long it takes."
"And if it takes months?"
I think about the possibility of having Viviana in my house, in my life, for months. Think about the way she challenges me, the way she makes me want things I shouldn't want. Think about how much more difficult it's going to be to give her up the longer she stays.
"Let’s hope it doesn’t," I say.
"You're asking me to trust you with the most important thing in my life."
"Yes."
"Why should I?"
"Because right now, I'm the only thing standing between her and whoever wants her dead."
Roberto studies my face, looking for deception, for any sign that I'm not telling him the truth.
"There's something else," he says finally. "Someone tried to grab my niece yesterday. Sofia, ten years old. They failed, but they left a message."
"What kind of message?"
"The kind that says Viviana is next."
I knew about the attempt on Sofia – that's what prompted the emergency meeting – but I didn't know about the specific message targeting Viviana.
"They're escalating," I say. "Which means we're running out of time."
Roberto reaches into his jacket, and every muscle in my body tenses. But instead of a weapon, he pulls out a photograph and slides it across the table.
It's a surveillance photo, grainy and dark, showing three men in tactical gear. Their faces are partially obscured, but there's something familiar about one of them.
"This was taken during the attempt on Sofia," Roberto says. "Recognize anyone?"
I study the photo more carefully. The man in the center, the one directing the others, there's something about his build, his posture, that triggers a memory.
"Maybe," I say. "I need better resolution."
"I'll have my people work on it."
"Send me a copy."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because like it or not, we're in this together now. Someone's hunting your family, and they're using my family as cover. That makes it my problem too."
Roberto nods slowly. "Joint operation. And my daughter stays safe. Swear it."
The request catches me off guard. In our world, promises mean everything and nothing. Words are cheap, but oaths sworn between made men carry weight.
"I swear on my family's honor," I say, "no harm will come to Viviana while she's under my protection."
"And when this is over?"
