“He’s not the only one we have,” Lars cuts in. “Three of his inner circle were taken with him. One is pretty young and might not be too loyal yet.”
Cormac closes the file in front of him. “I say start with him, leverage what we can get out of him against the others.”
Nodding, I say, “Split them up. If they bleed, they bleed. Iwant information. Especially if they can give us something on Falco.”
Stephano leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Do you want a clean extraction or full pressure?”
“Pressure,” I answer without hesitation. “I want names. Contacts. Locations. I want every plan Lachlan whispered when he thought he still had a kingdom.”
Lars’s gaze flicks to me. “And if they give us Falco?”
My jaw ticks. “Then we hunt him down before he can disappear again.”
Because I know he’s already halfway there.
Anthony Falco ran the second Zara slipped through his fingers at the altar and intel has become less than helpful in the past two weeks. He left his men scrambling, only taking his closest men with him from what we’ve heard. But he’s out there—waiting, watching. And I’ll be damned if I let him rebuild in our blind spots.
“Falco’s loyalists haven’t hidden,” I say. “Some went underground when the east collapsed, some stayed in Philly, but he still holds presence here and on the east coast. He can’t move without them. We need to find the men who stayed and offer them a deal they can’t refuse.”
“What are we talking here? Money? A title?” Dom asks.
“We promise what we have to and deliver nothing,” I confirm. “Send word to DeMarco in Philly. Tell him to start spreading the word. Bartenders, dealers, old crew. Anyone still cashing paychecks from the family name is to talk about the new era of the Marchetti Syndicate. They’ll start jumping ship soon enough.”
Cormac nods. “Then, hopefully the rats lead us to the den.”
“Exactly.”
I take a breath, then shift to the other problem. The one none of them know yet.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, lifting my gaze to meet each of them. “Lachlan has a second daughter.”
The room stills. lifts a brow. Lars straightens. Dom stops spinning his pen.
“He kept it quiet,” Lars says. “Even when he tried to barter with Zara’s engagement, he never once hinted there was another.”
“He didn’t need to,” I say. “She was out of reach. Her mother pulled her early. Changed her name. Moved.”
“Do we know her previous name?” Stephano asks.
“Isadora Vale Kavanagh.” The name rolls through the room.
“How old?” Dom asks. “Mid-twenties?”
“Twenty-four, from the earliest records I could find.” Lars paces. “Private boarding schools. Low profile. No known affiliations. But she exists. And if Lachlan ever whispered her name in the wrong ear, she’s a target.”
“Or a pawn like her sister,” Cormac says darkly.
“Or a backup,” Lars adds, voice colder now. “If he couldn’t control Zara…”
“He had another piece ready to move,” Dom finishes.
I nod. “We need to find her. Now. I want Rowan’s team pulling her last known address, digital trail, anything she used with that name—or any alias since. We’ll cross-reference school lists, flight logs, private banking, anything flagged through Syndicate filters.”
Dom glances at me. “Do we bring her in?”
“Only if we can do it gently,” I reply. “If she’s clean, we give Zara the reunion she’s asking for. But if she’s been compromised…” I pause, jaw tight. “We neutralize the threat. Quietly.”
The silence that follows is heavier now.
