"That's young."
"She had Riccardo at eighteen." Vittoria moves to the kitchen, and I follow. She pulls out a bottle of wine without asking if I want any. "Then nothing for years until the rest of us came along. She was forty when she had me. Dad called me his miracle baby."
She pours two glasses, slides one to me.
"Now she lives in the old family villa with my aunt and my cousin, Valentino. Prays all day and pretends her sons aren't running the same business that got her husband killed."
"But she calls you."
"Every day." Vittoria takes a long sip. "Begging me to leave. Telling me this family will get me killed just like Riccardo got killed, just like Dad. She says the women in this family should run, not stay and watch the men die."
"Why don't you?"
"Leave?" Vittoria considers this. "Because they're my brothers. Because someone needs to handle the technical side of things. Because if I left, who would visit Bruno? Who would stop Nico from starting wars with his conspiracy theories?"
"That's a lot of responsibility."
"It's family." She shrugs like that explains everything. Maybe it does. "Besides, Mother's one to talk. She stayed. Througheverything—the violence, the arrests, the constant danger. She stayed until Dad died. Then suddenly it was too much."
"Grief makes people do unexpected things."
Vittoria's eyes soften. "Your mother. Lorenzo mentioned she passed recently."
"A month ago." The number still feels impossible. "Cancer."
"I'm sorry."
"She would have liked you," I say, surprising myself with the truth of it. "She valued loyalty. Family. Even when family disappointed her."
Like Francesco. Like whatever really happened with Luna.
"Tell me about her," Vittoria says, refilling our glasses. "If you want."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lorenzo
The suit feels like armor tonight. Black Armani, tailored to perfection. I adjust the cufflinks and check the Glock tucked against my ribs.
In two hours, we face Francesco Torrino.
Pietro thinks it's a trap. Spent half the morning arguing that we should bring an army, turn the Benedetti warehouse into a show of force. But that's not how you handle a man like Francesco. You don't corner a snake. You give it room to slither, then strike when it's overconfident.
"Just you, Dante, and the girl," Pietro said finally, disgust clear in his voice. "But our men stay outside. Non-negotiable."
The Benedettis will be there too. Marco Benedetti owes me three favors, and I'm calling in one tonight. Neutral ground means neutral ground, and Marco's smart enough to know that keeping the peace benefits everyone.
My phone buzzes. Dante.
Car's ready. Leaving in thirty.
I pocket the phone and head for Sophia's room. She needs to understand exactly how tonight will go. One wrong word, one sign of weakness, and Francesco will pounce.
I knock twice.
"Who is it?" Her voice sounds muffled through the door.
"Lorenzo."
