"I want eyes on Walker. Twenty-four seven." I set my phone down. "And I want to know every Bratva operation in Chicago. Every contact. Every safe house."
"Sir." Liam's hesitation lasts only a second. "This could start a war."
"I'm not starting a war." I meet his gaze. "I'm ending a problem."
Liam studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees in my face makes him nod.
"I'll have full surveillance in place by tonight."
He leaves.
I stand alone in my office, staring at the folder on my desk. At the evidence of Jack Walker's betrayal. At the price tag now hanging over Kristen's head.
One hundred forty thousand dollars.
The number means nothing to me. I could pay it from my personal account without noticing the difference. I could make this entire problem disappear with a single phone call.
But that's not what burns in my chest. What makes my jaw ache from clenching.
Kristen has been killing herself for eight months. Working herself to exhaustion. All because she trusted a man who saw her as nothing more than a convenient scapegoat.
She's been fighting a war she didn't know she was in. Against an enemy she thought was an ally.
I grab my phone and dial Dante.
He picks up on the second ring. "Sartori."
"Where are you?"
"Just dropped off Kristen and the kid." A pause. "Not at their place, though. She asked me to stop at some playground a few blocks from her apartment."
My grip tightens on the phone. "She's at a playground? Right now?"
"Yeah." Dante sounds bored. "I was heading back to the compound."
"Turn around."
Silence.
"What?"
"I need you to stay close to her. Don't let her out of your sight."
Dante sighs heavily through the line. "Why? She's just taking her kid to a park. It's broad daylight."
"Because she might be in danger." The words come out sharp. Hard. "Do as I fucking said."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Okay." His voice shifts. Professional now. "How close do you want me?"
"Close enough to see her. Far enough that she doesn't notice." I pace toward the window, staring at the city below. "If anyone approaches her—anyone who isn't a mom with a stroller—you call me immediately."
"Got it."
"And Dante?" I stop pacing. "This stays between us for now."
"Understood."
