Leo wrapped his small arms around my neck in a hug that nearly undid me. "Night, Cass'an. Make castle more tall ‘morrow?"
"Absolutely," I promised, my voice rougher than I intended. "We'll make it the tallest castle in the city."
After Isla led him away for his bath, I stood in the empty playroom, staring at the half-finished castle. The tower we'd built together leaned slightly, held together by careful balance and shared effort.
Fragile. Precious. Worth protecting.
I pulled out my phone and texted Marco:Status update. Now.
His response came within seconds:Matteo meeting with the Castellano family tonight. Intel suggests he's proposing an alliance.
The Castellanos controlled the northern docks and had always maintained an uneasy peace with the Barone family. If Matteo convinced them to switch sides, he'd have enough muscle to make a real move.
I typed back:Keep eyes on the meeting. Record everything.
Then I made one more call.
"Vincent," I said when Calabrese answered. "That meeting you proposed? Make it tomorrow. Noon. The usual place."
"So, you're finally ready to talk business?"
"I'm ready to discuss our mutual problem." I moved to the window, watching the city lights flicker. "Matteo's getting ambitious. That affects both of us."
"Indeed, it does." I could hear the smile in Vincent's voice. "I'll see you tomorrow, Cassian. And Cassian? Bring an appetite. My chef has outdone himself."
After hanging up, I checked the security feeds one more time. Leo was in the bath, splashing happily while Isla tried to wash his hair. She was smiling—a small, tired smile, but genuine. For Leo's sake, she was trying.
The feed from her bedroom showed it was empty, the door open for the first time in days. A small thing, but it gave me hope.
Maybe the wall she'd built was starting to crack.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. I didn't need to guess who it was.
Nice family you've got there, cousin. The boy has your eyes. Would be a shame if something happened to them.
A photo was attached. I opened it, and ice flooded my veins.
Taken three days ago—before I'd brought them to the Morrison building. Isla and Leo at a playground near her old apartment in Brooklyn. Leo on a swing, Isla pushing him, both their faces clearly visible. No security detail. No protection.
Completely vulnerable.
Matteo had been watching them even then. Before I knew they existed. Before I could protect them.
And he’s been close enough to take this photo. Close enough to touch them.
I stared at the image—my son's delighted smile, Isla's gentle hands on his back, pushing him higher. A perfect moment of innocence, now poisoned by the knowledge that Matteo had been there. Watching. Waiting.
How long had he been following them? How many other photos did he have?
My vision went red for a moment before ice-cold calm settled over me. I forwarded the message to Marco with one word:NOW.
Then I deleted the photo from my phone, though I knew I'd never forget it.
Matteo had just declared war.
And he'd chosen the worst possible way to do it—by threatening my son.
I texted Matteo back:Touch them, and there won't be anywhere on this earth you can hide.
