"True. But right now, his interests align with ours. Matteo's making enemies faster than allies. Vincent wants him contained before he destabilizes the entire waterfront."
I considered this, calculating angles and consequences. Accepting help from Calabrese would create debt. But refusing might leave us vulnerable.
"Set up a meeting. Neutral location. I want to hear what he's offering."
After Marco left, I pulled up the security feeds. Leo's playroom showed him building an elaborate train track, his face serious with concentration. The living room camera showed Isla curled in a chair, a book open in her lap, but her gaze distant, unfocused.
She was planning something. I could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the way she jumped at sudden sounds. She was looking for an exit, a way out.
And I couldn't let her find one.
Not because I wanted to keep her prisoner—though that's what she believed. But because the moment she left this building, she and Leo would be exposed. Vulnerable. And Matteo would use that vulnerability without hesitation.
I scrolled through my contacts to a name I rarely used—one reserved for situations where standard security wasn't enough.
"Dmitri," I said when the line connected. "I need your team on standby. Protection detail. High priority."
"How many?" The voice was heavily accented, Russian, all business.
"Your best eight. Twenty-four-hour rotation. External perimeter on a single building."
"Location?"
"Morrison building, Midtown. I'll send coordinates." I paused. "Invisible positioning. No one can know they're there—not the targets, not potential threats, not even some of my own people."
"Expensive."
"I don't care what it costs. This is family."
A beat of silence. Dmitri knew I didn't use that word lightly. "I'll have the team inposition by nightfall."
"Good. And Dmitri? Anyone who tries to breach the perimeter—I don't want them arrested. I want them to disappear."
"Understood."
I hung up and turned back to Marco. "Dmitri's team will handle the external perimeter. Your people stay on the building itself—lobby, elevators, floors. Two layers of protection."
Marco nodded slowly. "Dmitri's crew doesn't fuck around."
"Exactly why I'm using them."
"The targets?" His Russian accent was thick, but his English was precise.
"A woman and a child. Two and a half years old." I pulled up Leo's photo on my screen. "If I give the word, you extract them immediately. No questions, no delays."
"Extraction location?"
"I'll provide coordinates when necessary. But Dmitri? If it comes to that, if I'm calling you for extraction, it means everything has gone wrong. Your only job is getting them out safely."
"Understood. The fee—"
"Triple your usual rate. Plus a bonus if they don't get a scratch."
A pause. "You care about them."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "More than anything."
After ending the call, I stood and moved to the locked cabinet in the corner of my office. Inside were things I hadn't touched in years—weapons I'd thought I'd left behind when I'd decided to focus on the legitimate business.
