The call comes later and I take it in the study, closing the door even though I know Viviana will try to listen through the walls. The conversation switches rapidly between English and Italian as my father, Roberto, and I coordinate the details.
"Simultaneous strikes on all three locations," my father's orders crackle through the encrypted line. "No survivors, no witnesses."
"My men can handle the warehouse district," Roberto adds. "But we'll need your explosives expertise for the main compound."
"Tommy's already sourcing the materials," I confirm. "Shaped charges for the gates, incendiaries for cleanup."
We spend the next hour going over entry points, escape routes, communication protocols. It's the kind of detailed planning that usually takes weeks, compressed into a single night because we don't have the luxury of time.
"One more thing," Roberto says as we're wrapping up. "My daughter. She should be with my family during the operation."
I understand what he's really saying. If this goes wrong, if I don't make it back, Viviana needs to be with her family. Somewhere she can grieve and heal and eventually move on with her life.
"I know you want her home, but until this is finally over, she’s safer where she is,” I tell him. “If I don’t make it back, Tommy has instructions to delivery her immediately back to you.”
"Are you sure she’s safe?”
“As safe as she can be under the circumstances.”
“Let’s end this tonight. Kill those bastards.”
"I'll do my best, sir."
When I end the call, I go upstairs to find Viviana sitting on the edge of our bed, staring at nothing. She's changed into one of my t-shirts, her legs pulled up to her chest, looking younger and more vulnerable than I've ever seen her.
"You heard," I say.
"Some of it. Enough to worry."
I sit beside her, pulling her against my side, feeling the way she melts into me despite everything.
"Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that a few months ago, the most dangerous thing in my life was sneaking out to nightclubs. Now I'm sitting here listening to my... whatever you are... plan a war."
"What am I to you?"
She's quiet for a long moment. "You're the man I can't live without. Even when you scare the hell out of me."
"Do I still scare you?"
"Not you, all this other stuff." She gestures toward my phone, toward the world of violence and strategy that she's only beginning to understand. "The idea of losing you before I've really had you in my life."
Her honesty cuts. I stroke her hair, buying time while I figure out what to say.
"What if I told you that after tonight, we can figure out what comes next without constantly looking over our shoulders?"
"I'd say it sounds too good to be true."
"Maybe. But it's worth fighting for."
She looks up at me, and I see the fear and love warring in her dark eyes.
"Promise me something."
"If I can."
"Promise me you'll come back. I know you don't make promises, but make this one."
