Lorenzo closes the distance between them. My uncle's men tense, but Pietro raises one finger. Everyone freezes. "You promised him something that was never yours to give. Sophia was already spoken for the moment Luna's betrayal killed my men."
"That's not how it works?—"
"That's exactly how it works." Lorenzo's voice drops lower. "And you know it. You've always known it. You just hoped I wouldn't claim what was owed and truth is I didn't want to. But now I do."
A blood debt?
All these years since Luna's death, and not once did anyone mention a debt.
Lorenzo had his reasons. I can't blame him.
But my mother didn't mention it. Although I can understand that too. She tried hard to keep me untouched from the mafia life and rules.
"You know the Commission's rules as well as I do. Internal family debts stay internal. The moment I claim Sophia as payment for an Italian blood debt, Daniil has no standing. He touches her, he's declaring war on all five families, not just the Sartoris." Lorenzo says.
Francesco's face pales. "The Commission hasn't met in?—"
"They don't need to meet. The old rules are clear. Russians handle Russian business. Italians handle Italian business. Luna was a Torrino. Her debt is a Torrino debt. Unless you want to see Chicago burn because you made promises you couldn't keep?"
Francesco doesn't talk.
"Here's what's going to happen," Lorenzo says. "You're going to tell Daniil the truth. That Sophia is payment for Luna's betrayal. That she's under Sartori protection as my bride. And then you're going to make your best effort to kick every Russian out of Chicago."
"You're insane if you think?—"
"They have no business here, Francesco. This is our city. Italian territory. The Russians are parasites, and you invited them in because you're too weak to hold your own territory without their help."
My uncle's hand twitches toward his gun. Three Sartori guards draw their weapons before his fingers reach his holster.
"Go ahead," Lorenzo says softly. "Give me a reason."
The room holds its breath.
"You wouldn't dare," Francesco spits. "Not in front of her."
Lorenzo leans in close, his lips barely moving. "I will kill you, Francesco. I will kill you and every Morozov in this city. I will paint Chicago red with Russian blood until Daniil himself comes begging for mercy."
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
"The only reason you're still breathing," Lorenzo continues, "is because you're the only family Sophia has left. I won't take that from her. Not unless you force my hand."
He steps back, straightening his cuffs. The gesture is so casual, so controlled, but I see the barely leashed violence beneath it.
"But make no mistake. If it comes down to her safety or your life, I won't hesitate. Not for a second."
The conviction in his voice steals my breath. He speaks like every word is carved in stone, like my safety is a fundamental law of the universe. Like he'd burn the world without blinking if it meant keeping me safe.
Is this an act?
Wow. He can fake it like a Hollywood actor would.
Francesco's face cycles through several shades of red. "You're making a mistake, Sartori. Daniil won't accept this. He'll come for her."
"Let him come." Lorenzo adjusts his watch, checking the time like this is a business meeting instead of a death threat. "I've been looking for an excuse to remove the Russian problem from Chicago permanently."
Pietro stands, the movement fluid despite his size. "Francesco, convince Daniil to withdraw his interest in Sophia, or we'll convince him ourselves."
"And if I refuse?"
