Right before we pushed him out, he lifted his head and laughed, a wet, disbelieving sound. "You think this ends with me. That's what he wants you to think."
I remember leaning in, close enough that he could see his reflection in my eyes.
"He?" I asked. I had an idea who he was talking about; he had already mentioned him, but I had to hear it again.
Joaquín swallowed. Hard. "El Recaudador."
The name tasted like ash.
"He knows about your family," Joaquín went on. "Not the ones you killed. The ones youmade." His gaze flicked, pointed, knowing. "He's not interested in territory. He's interested inchoice."
I told him he was stalling.
He shook his head. "No. I'm warning you."
The wind roared louder then, drowning out the rest, but not before he said one last thing, quiet, certain, almost reverent. "He doesn't collect the past. He collects what men would burn the world to protect."
The memory sits heavy in my chest now. I look down at Jenna, at the soft line of her mouth, the way her brow smooths when she sleeps. I think of Amauri, sprawled across his bed like the world has never hurt him and never will. I understand it then.
There is no way that Joaquín or El Recaudador—what a ridiculous name—knew about them. Not yesterday. No, he was talking about myother family. The one that took a decade to build. With Enzo, Alessio, Gabe, and Damiano at the top.
This isn't about revenge. Or expansion. Or power.
This is about leverage.
I press a kiss into Jenna's hair, careful not to wake her. El Recaudador will find out about her and my son. Likely not today. Maybe not even tomorrow, but it will be sooner rather than later. Let him come, I think, the resolve settling in cold and steady. If El Recaudador wants what I'd burn the world for, he's welcome to try.
But there are lines you cross only once. And this time, I won't be the one paying for someone else's lies.
The sky is just beginning to pale when I step out onto the balcony. Las Vegas stretches below me, restless even at dawn. Neon still burns in places it shouldn't. The city never truly sleeps; it just pretends to. There is a lull right about this time, when normal people get up. I rest my forearms on the railing, breathe in the desert air, and let the cool seep into my bones. Once, this view meant dominion. Control. A kingdom I built with blood and patience and an unshakable belief that I understood every moving piece.
Now it means something else. Behind me, Jenna sleeps. Down the hall, our son dreams. The city looks the same as it always has, but I don't. The phone vibrates in my hand before it rings. Gabe.
I answer without speaking.
"There's something you need to hear," he announces. No preamble. No wasted words.
I straighten slightly. "Go ahead."
"I got a call." His voice is tight. Alert. "Unknown number, probably from a burner, no ID."
I straighten slightly, premonition filling my bones. "And?"
"It was a man. The guy knew who he was calling. Knew whoIworked for." A beat. "I've already got Alessio tracing it. He's pulling everything: latency, relay points, ghost servers. Whoever this is didn't come in sloppy."
"What did he want?" I demand, wishing Gabe would get to the point and dreading it at the same time.
Gabe exhales. "It wasn't a threat."
That makes my jaw tighten.
"It was an offer," he adds carefully.
I close my eyes.
"Let me guess."
"Join me," Gabe's voice drops, "and live. Stay with Manetti… and die."
