"I understand," Sophia says.
Pietro turns away, then stops. "What happens to your uncle Francesco when this is over? You expecting us to spare him because you helped us?"
Everyone watches Sophia now, waiting to see if she'll plead for family blood.
"I don't care what happens to Francesco," she says, and her voice goes cold as winter wind. "He let my mother die thinking he loved us, while he was already negotiating my price with the Russians. He's not my family anymore," Sophia continues. "Family doesn't sell you to monsters. Family doesn't use your mother's funeral to discuss your bride price." Her hands clench in her lap. "Whatever you do to him, he's earned it."
Pietro studies her for another moment, then nods to Vittoria. "Take her to the guest room. Make sure she has what she needs."
Vittoria pushes off from the fireplace, moving with the casual grace that makes people forget she's as dangerous as any of us when needed. "Come on," she says to Sophia, kindly.
Sophia stands, she looks at me once. Just a quick glance that asks a dozen questions that I can't answer right now.
Vittoria leads Sophia up the stairs, their footsteps fading as they climb. The blue guest room is on the third floor, far from any easy exit. Smart choice. Close enough to hear if there's trouble, far enough that she can't slip out unnoticed.
"Lorenzo," Pietro says, and I know that tone. The real conversation is about to begin.
I move from behind the empty chair, taking a position where I can see both my brothers. Nico pushes off his wall, closing the circle. Dante and Liam know to stay quiet unless asked directly.
"You believe her?" Pietro asks me.
"The fear's real," I say. "Nobody's that good an actress."
"Fear can be real and still be manipulation," Nico points out. "She could be scared of Francesco and still playing us."
"Like Luna did," Pietro adds, watching my face.
I keep my expression neutral despite the name hitting like ice water. "Luna was different. She came to me with promises, not desperation. She appeared to want me and then to love me. She offered things that seemed too good to be true because they were. Sophia's not offering me anything except information we can verify. She's not trying to seduce her way in."
"Liam," Pietro says, turning to his head of security. "Find out what Francesco's doing right now. I want to know if he's looking for her, who he's talked to, what moves he's making."
Liam nods once, already pulling out his phone. "I'll have eyes on him within the hour."
"There's something else," I say, drawing Pietro's attention back to me. "According to the USB, Francesco and the Russians are hitting another shipment tonight. Dock seven, around midnight."
Pietro's jaw tightens. "How much?"
"Originally half a million in electronics." I keep my voice level. "I already moved most of it this afternoon. Left about eighty grand worth. Enough to make them think it's real, not enough to hurt us badly."
My brother studies me for a long moment.
"You changed the manifest without telling me," he says, but there's no real heat in it.
"I was going to brief you tonight."
"It is a smart move," Pietro says slowly, working through the strategy. "If we hit back immediately, they'll know we have inside information. They'll suspect the girl."
"Or they'll tighten security around whatever they're planning next," I add. "Right now they think we're blind. That's an advantage we can't waste."
Pietro nods, the decision made. "Let them have their victory tonight. We'll make them pay for it later, with interest." He looks at Dante. "Make sure our guys at dock seven know to put up enough of a fight to make it look real, but no heroes. I don't want anyone dying over eighty grand of merchandise we're choosing to lose."
"Already on it," Dante says, typing into his phone.
Pietro turns back to me. "The USB. Let's see more in it." He moves toward his office, expecting me to follow. "Nico, you too. Dante, stay here in case Liam needs backup coordination."
We follow Pietro down the hallway to his office.
Pietro's office feels smaller with the three of us in it. He sits behind his massive desk while Nico takes the leather chair to his right. I remain standing, arms crossed, watching as Pietro plugs the USB into his computer.
