"Agreed."
The drive took thirty-two minutes—record time. I pushed the Aston Martin to its limits, using every shortcut I knew.
Giulio called when we were two minutes out. "Boss. We have eyes on him. Terminal Four, Gate 27. Flight to Prague boarding in fifteen minutes."
Prague. Where Bianca had been hiding. Not a coincidence.
"We're almost there," I said. "Don't let him board that plane."
We abandoned the car in a no-parking zone, ran through the terminal. Security waved us through—I had connections everywhere, people who knew better than to delay a Monti.
We reached Gate 27 just as final boarding was called.
And there: Matteo. Standing in line, carry-on bag clutched tight, looking nervous but determined.
"Matteo!" My voice cut through the terminal noise like a blade.
Matteo froze. Turned. Saw me, Paola, Giulio's team surrounding the gate.
His face went through several expressions in rapid succession: surprise, fear, resignation.
Then he ran.
Giulio's men were faster. They tackled him before he made it ten feet, drove him to the polished floor.
Passengers scattered. Airport security rushed over, hands on weapons.
I flashed credentials. "Family business. We'll handle it."
Security backed off. Nobody wanted to get involved with the Montis.
Giulio hauled Matteo to his feet, zip-tied his hands behind his back. I approached, fury barely contained beneath the surface.
"Matteo. I trusted you. For four years, I trusted you."
Matteo's face was defeated, hollow. "Cesare, I can explain—"
"Explain how you've been feeding my enemy information? Explain how you framed my brother? Explain how you betrayed your family?"
"He has my sister! Viktor has Dmitri's family in Russia. He threatened to kill them if I didn't help."
So it was coercion, not greed. Not that it mattered.
"You could have come to me. I would have helped protect them."
"Would you? Or would you have seen me as a liability?"
The question hung heavy between us. I didn't have a good answer.
Paola stepped forward. "The documents about Piero. You fabricated them?"
Matteo nodded miserably. "Viktor wanted Piero discredited. Wanted Cesare to turn on his own brother."
"What else?" I demanded. "What other damage have you done?"
Matteo's shoulders slumped. "I told Viktor about the switch at the wedding. About Paola being the wrong twin. That's how he knew to challenge you at the anniversary celebration."
Every blow Viktor had landed—Matteo had armed him for it.
