I look at Ciro. He nods confirmation.
"Tell me what happened," I say to Dante. "That day. Every detail."
He tells me about the drive to Florence. The "engine trouble." How he couldn't look at me when he did it. How he beat me until he thought I was dead while praying I wasn’t. How he left me in that field and drove away.
How he's hated himself every day since.
"I knew you'd come for me eventually," he finishes. "Knew I'd pay for what I did. I deserve it. I betrayed you. Broke my oath. I deserve to die."
He's right. By the laws of our world, betrayal has only one punishment.
Death.
The old me—the me from before the farm, before Isabella and Elena—would have killed him without hesitation. Would have made it painful. Would have made an example of him.
But I'm not that man anymore.
"You had a choice," I say quietly. "Me or your sister. And you chose your sister."
"Yes."
"I would have done the same." The words surprise him. Surprise Ciro too. "If someone threatened my daughter. If they said kill or she dies, I'd pull the trigger without hesitation." I crouch down so we're eye level. "I understand why you did it. I even forgive you for it."
Hope flares in his eyes. "Boss—"
"But." My voice hardens. "I can't let you back into the organization. Can't take you back like nothing happened. That would show weakness. Would tell everyone that betrayal can be forgiven if you have a good reason. I can't afford that message."
The hope dies. "I understand."
"Here's what's going to happen." I stand. "Ciro is going to untie you. You're going to walk out of here. You're going to take your sister and your mother, and you're going to leave Naples. Today. Within twenty-four hours, you'll be gone."
He stares at me, not understanding what I’m offering him. "You're—you're letting me live?"
"I'm giving you a chance. One chance. You leave. You never come back. You never speak my name. You never contact anyone from the organization. You disappear completely." I pause. "And if I ever see you again, if you ever come back to Naples, if you ever do anything that makes me regret this decision—I will kill you. And your sister. And your mother. And anyone you've ever cared about. Understand? I won’t have a choice."
"Yes. Yes, boss. I understand. Thank you. Thank you—"
"Don't thank me. Just go. And Dante?" I turn back at the door. "You saved my life once. In Milano. Three years ago. Took a bullet that was meant for me. I haven't forgotten that. That's why you get this chance. We're even now. The debt is paid."
I walk out, Ciro following.
In the car, he's quiet for a moment. "The old you would have killed him. Isabella and Elena—they've changed you."
"Yes." I look out the window at the city passing by. "My love for them has made me weak."
"No, boss." Ciro's voice is firm. "They've made you strong. Strong enough to show mercy when you have the power to take vengeance. That's not weakness. That’s leadership."
Maybe he's right.
Or maybe I'm just a man who's learned that some things matter more than reputation and fear.
"Take me home," I tell Ciro.
"To the villa?"
"Home," I repeat. "To my family."
He smiles and turns the car toward Isabella and Elena.
