The operational challenges alone are staggering: multiple hostiles, unknown variables, the need to keep a civilian alive while potentially facing lethal force.
But the political implications are even worse.
If she fails, if the witness dies, the Families can claim she’s not capable of protecting valuable assets and she can be killed.
If she succeeds, she’ll have interfered with a Calabrese operation, potentially creating grounds for retaliation.
She could be killed.
Either way, Dominic wins.
Worse, protecting a federal witness puts her in direct conflict with everything our world stands for.
We don’t cooperate with law enforcement, we don’t protect people who threaten our operations, and we certainly don’t put ourselves at risk for the benefit of federal investigations.
Men have been murdered for less than this.
He’s designed a trial where success makes her look like a traitor and failure makes her look incompetent.
“The witness is currently being held at a secure location,” Dominic continues, clearly enjoying every word. “Miss DeLuca will have forty-eight hours to establish protection protocols and prepare for the assassination attempts, which will commence at a time of our choosing within a seventy-two-hour window following the preparation period.”
I want to stand up and call this what it is—a fucking rigged game designed to destroy her regardless of the outcome.
But Bianca remains perfectly calm beside me, her expression neutral, showing no reaction whatsoever to what should be devastating news.
“The parameters seem quite extensive,” Don Vitelli observes, his tone carefully neutral. “Perhaps Miss DeLuca would like clarification on certain aspects?”
“I’m sure she would,” Dominic replies with false sympathy. “After all, this is significantly more complex than her previous trials. Some might say impossibly so.”
The provocation is obvious, designed to make her react, to show doubt or fear or anger that can be used against her.
But Bianca just sits there, hands folded in her lap, face serene as carved marble.
“Of course,” Dominic continues, his smile growing sharper, “we understand if Miss DeLuca feels this trial is beyond her capabilities. There’s no shame in recognizing one’s limitations. Some people are simply not cut out for the highest levels of leadership.”
Still nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion.
“Perhaps she’s inherited more than just her father’s eyes,” he says, and I can hear the venom creeping into his voice. “Perhaps she’s inherited his particular…weaknesses as well. His tendency toward violence over strategy. His inability to inspire genuine loyalty among his subordinates.”
My vision starts to blur red around the edges and I grip the arms of my chair.
He’s attacking Giuseppe now, trying to goad her through family insults.
But Bianca remains unmoved, as if she’s not even hearing him.
“Then again,” Dominic presses on, clearly frustrated by her lack of reaction, “maybe the real weakness runs deeper. Maybe it comes from her mother’s side. After all, Sophia DeLuca proved herself quite…accommodatingto our family’s interests. Perhaps her daughter has inherited that same flexibility when it comes to loyalty.”
The insult is so far below the belt it’s staggering.
He’s essentially calling Sophia a whore and suggesting Bianca might be equally treacherous.
The rage that floods through me is so intense I actually see spots.
My chair scrapes against the floor as I start to rise, but Matteo’s voice cuts through the air.
“Careful, Dominic.”
Two words, spoken quietly, but they carry enough menace to make every person in the room freeze.
