I finally turn back around, staring straight ahead at the road. My hands are fists on my thighs.
I will come back. No matter what it takes. No matter what I have to do or who I have to become. I will find a way back to them.
"Boss?" Ciro's voice is gentle. "Are you okay?"
"No. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is keeping them safe."
I see Ciro exchange a glance with the driver.
"Tell me what I need to do," I say. "To protect them. The woman and the child. Tell me exactly what threats we're dealing with and how to eliminate them."
Ciro turns in his seat to look at me. "First, tell me about your memory. How much do you remember?"
"Not much. Fragments. Flashes of violence. Skills. I know how to do things but I don't remember learning them." I pause. "But I remembered something last night. Something important."
"What?"
"You and me. In a car at night. We were being followed by the Florence family. Four men. We made a stand in an alley." I meet his eyes. "You saved my life. Shot a man who had me dead to rights."
Ciro's expression shifts—surprise, then something that looks like relief. "Milano. Three years ago. You remember that?"
"Pieces of it. Not everything. But enough to know that I can trust you. That you're loyal. That you've had my back more times than I can count." I lean forward slightly. "I need you, Ciro. I need you to guide me through this until my memory comes back. Because I can't do this alone."
"Of course. Whatever you need."
"And nobody can know about the memory loss. Nobody." I glance at the driver. "Is he—"
"Elio. He's solid. Been with us for five years. He won't say a word."
Elio meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and nods once. "On my life, boss."
"Good." I sit back. "Because if my enemies find out my memory is gone. That I'm weak right now, they'll move against me immediately."
"Agreed," Ciro says. "We keep this between the three of us. Maybe one or two others we absolutely trust. Everyone else thinks you've been laying low, recovering from the attack, but you're back now and fully in control."
"Can I pull that off? Without my memory?"
"With my help, yes." Ciro turns back to face forward. "I'll brief you on everything—who's who, what's been happening, what decisions need to be made. You lean on me in meetings, let me do most of the talking at first. We'll say you're still recovering from your injuries, that you're taking it slow. No one will question it."
I think about this, running through the logistics. "What about my home? My office? Places I'm supposed to know intimately?"
"I'll walk you through them before anyone else sees you. Point out what's important, where things are. We'll do it tonight when we get back." He pauses. "It won't be perfect, but it'll be enough. You're smart, you'll adapt fast."
"And the threats? Tell me everything."
Ciro takes a breath. "The Florence family. They're the main problem. They think you're dead. Dante reported back that he killed you, disposed of your body. As far as they know, they won.But the moment they find out you're alive, they'll move against you again. Probably harder this time."
"We need to move against them first."
"Exactly. Before word gets out that you're back. We need to hit them fast and decisively. Send a message that attempting to kill you was a fatal mistake."
"What do you recommend?"
"We take out their leadership. The Don and his top lieutenants. Make it look like an internal power struggle so it doesn't trace back to us immediately." Ciro's voice is cold, strategic. "Without leadership, their organization falls apart. They'll be too busy fighting amongst themselves to come after you, or anyone connected to you."
He means Isabella and Elena, though he doesn't say their names.
I absorb this. A week ago, the idea would have horrified me. Now, it just makes tactical sense. "Timeline?"
