It was barely ten-thirty. At least another hour before the meeting officially started. Another hour of this performance, this tightrope walk between loyalty and love.
I took another half-sip of wine, pretending to savor it.
Can't get tipsy. Can't let my guard down. One wrong word and this all falls apart.
I'd need every bit of clarity, every ounce of control to survive tonight.
My gaze swept the room casually, cataloging faces, positions. Then the exits—two doors, three windows, one leading to the patio where Nonno was getting his "fresh air."
Just in case.
I didn't think the meeting would end in violence. Carlo had promised to protect me, and I believed him.
But I'd been wrong about so many things lately.
Wrong about Quentin being a killer.
Wrong about my ability to complete this assignment.
Wrong about my own heart.
So I noted the exits anyway. Measured the distance to each one. Calculated which family members stood between me and escape.
This is what my life has become. Planning escape routes at family meetings. Afraid of my own blood.
I took another sip of wine I couldn't taste and prepared myself for the longest night of my life.
A night that would either prove my loyalty.
Or end it forever.
Chapter 28
Julia
Filomena stood before the family like a prosecuting attorney delivering final arguments.
"The Moretti family is making territorial moves. They cannot be trusted." Her voice rang with conviction. "But more importantly—Quentin Vanetti is responsible for the death of Don Salvatore. I am certain of this."
My stomach dropped. Certain? But the security system was overridden from inside. Only family had the code. Carlo. Vinny. Her. Me. Not Quentin. He couldn't have disarmed it. So who did?
"How certain?" Carlo leaned forward. "What proof do you have, Aunt Filomena?"
"I have sources I've sworn to protect."
What sources? Papa's notepad said "F – 9 p.m. Tuesday. Wine. Talk." Tuesday. The night he died. F could be anyone of our people. But whoever F was, they were there that night. And the security system was overridden from inside. Only family had that code.
"From your own family?" Carlo's voice sharpened. "From your don?"
"My word is my bond." Filomena's chin lifted. "If I break faith with my sources, how will I maintain the network we need to survive in this world?"
My hands clenched in my lap under the table, nails digging into my palms.
She's going to get him killed. She's going to get Quentin killed and she won't even say why.
"I understand protecting a turned cop," Carlo said carefully. "That's valuable. But you have more than that. And you're not sharing it with me."
"Please, Don Carlo." Filomena spread her hands in supplication. "Trust me. I've been faithful to this family since before you were born. Everything I do, I do for love of the Russos."
