“We hit all three,” Dante, my head of security, suggests. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Simultaneous strikes. Send a message they can’t ignore.”
“Too flashy,” Paulo counters. He’s nursing a coffee, looking exhausted. He hasn’t slept since the shooting two nights ago. None of us have. “We go in loud like that, the cops will have to respond. Fed attention is the last thing we need right now.”
“Fed attention is inevitable after what happened at Pike Place,” Luca, my financial guy, points out. “You shot at a civilian Christmas market, boss. It’s going to bring heat regardless.”
The reminder sits heavy in my chest. Elena, thrown to the ground. Elena, covered by my body as bullets flew overhead. Elena, her honey-colored eyes wide with terror while she clutched that ridiculous stuffed penguin.
Elena, who should have run screaming but instead bandaged my wound and told me she was falling for me.
“The shooter’s identity is scrubbed,” Marco says. “No connection to us, no connection to Greco. Far as the cops areconcerned, it was random violence. They’re treating it as an isolated incident.”
“For now,” Paulo mutters.
“For now,” Marco agrees. “Which means we have a small window to respond before this escalates further. Boss, what’s the call?”
All eyes turn to me. This is what they expect, cold calculation, ruthless strategy, the kind of decisive action that’s kept the De Luca family on top for three generations. The Shadow making his move.
“We take the drug operation,” my voice comes out flat, emotionless. The voice of a man who’s done this a hundred times before. “Tonight. Clean, professional. No bodies left behind, no evidence. We burn their product, destroy their infrastructure, and we make sure every dealer in the city knows what happens when you come after what’s mine.”
“And Greco himself?” Dante asks.
“Greco gets a message delivered personally. Something he can’t misinterpret.” The words taste like ash. Violence begetting violence, the endless cycle that’s defined my entire adult life. “Marco, you handle it. Make it clear, Elena Harper is off limits. Anyone who looks at her wrong, anyone who so much as breathes near her shop, they answer to me.”
Luca raises an eyebrow, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“About that,” Marco says carefully. “Boss, we need to talk about the girl.”
“No.”
“You’re not even going to hear me out?”
“There’s nothing to hear. She’s under my protection. That’s final.”
“Alessandro.” Marco drops the formality, which means he’s about to say something he knows won’t go over well. “You needto end this. Whatever is happening between you and Elena Harper, end it. Now. Before this gets any worse.”
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Everyone else suddenly finds their phones, their papers, the ceiling incredibly interesting. No one makes eye contact.
“Care to explain?” Each word is carefully measured.
“Someone tried to kill you at a Christmas market because you were distracted. Because you were too busy playing normal boyfriend to notice the threat.” Marco’s voice is hard, unyielding. He’s the only one who can talk to me like this, the privilege of twenty years of friendship. “Two more seconds of delay and you’d be dead. Because of her.”
“The threat was neutralized—”
“This time. What about next time? Or the time after that?” He leans forward, planting his hands on the table. “You’ve been sloppy, Alessandro. You’re so focused on this woman you’re missing things. Important things. The rest of us see it, even if you don’t.”
Rage flares hot and immediate. “Watch yourself.”
“Someone has to say it. You’re compromised. She’s a liability—”
“She’s not a liability, she’s—” The words die in my throat because how can Marco possibly understand? How can any of them understand what Elena represents? Light in a life that’s been nothing but darkness. Honesty in a world built on lies. Something pure and good that has nothing to do with blood or business or the weight of family expectations crushing down on my shoulders.
“She’s what?” Marco challenges. “Your girlfriend? Your weakness? Your Achilles heel waiting to get exploited?”
“Enough.” The command cracks through the room like a whip. “Elena stays under protection. You will not question this again. Am I clear?”
Marco’s jaw works, but he nods. “Crystal.”
“Good. The rest of you, be ready to move by twenty-three hundred hours. Paulo, coordinate with the surveillance team. Dante, weapons and backup. Luca, make sure our legal cover is airtight if this goes sideways.” Each man nods, filing out one by one until it’s only Marco and me left.
