I pull out my phone and manage to dial Fed despite the wind and spray. “We have a leak in Miami. Luca Vega—find out everything about him. Bank accounts, family connections, and who he’s been meeting with. I want answers within the hour.”
The boat cuts through the waves as I process what just happened. The Morettis knew exactly where we’d be, exactly when we’d be vulnerable. Their spray-painted crests, their obvious displays of power, the cufflink left behind—it all screams of their arrogance.
But something still nags at me. Something I can’t quite identify.
From now on, I can only trust blood—Carmela, Fed, Isabella, and my parents. Everyone else is a suspect until proven otherwise.
I slamthe penthouse door behind me, the blood on my sleeve already drying to a rusty brown. The Miami skyline glitters through floor-to-ceiling windows, but I barely notice it. My hands shake as I peel off my jacket, wincing as the fabric pulls against the graze wound.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the ruined jacket onto the marble counter.
The ambush replays in my mind—the shattered windows, Carlos taking a bullet, the realization that someone in Lorenzo’s crew betrayed us. But worse than any of that is the distance between Carmela and me. With the Morettis making coordinated moves, she’s vulnerable in Philadelphia.
I grab my secure phone and dial her number, pacing the penthouse floor. Each ring stretches into eternity.
“Silvo?” Her voice finally comes through, instantly loosening the vise around my chest.
“Hey.” I exhale, dropping onto the leather sofa. “You okay?”
“I should be asking you that. Fed told me there was trouble.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Liar.” Her tone softens. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a scratch.”
Silence stretches between us. I picture her biting her lower lip, the way she does when she’s worried but trying not to show it.
“Carmela,” I say her name like a prayer. “I need you to stay inside. Don’t go anywhere without Fed or the security team.”
“About that...” She hesitates. “There’s something you should know.”
My body tenses. “What happened?”
“The Morettis sent a package. Photos of us, with a threatening note.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “What did it say?”
“That you can’t protect me forever.” Her voice remains steady, stronger than I expected. “Isabella and I have been doing some research together on the Morettis.”
The rage builds inside me, hot and violent. They’re threatening my wife while I’m stuck in Miami, dealing with their attacks.
“I’m coming home.” I stand, already planning the fastest route back.
“No,” Carmela says firmly. “You need to finish what you started there. I’m safe. Fed is here, Leo has the house locked down, and I’m not alone.”
Her pragmatism grounds me, pulls me back from the edge.
“I miss you, Carmela.” The admission falls from my lips before I can stop it. This vulnerability isn’t something I’m used to showing, but with her, the walls I’ve spent a lifetime building seem to crumble.
“I miss you too.” Her voice softens, all the fire and defiance momentarily replaced with something tender. “The house feels empty without you stomping around and glowering at everyone.”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “Is that what I do?”
“Among other things.” There’s a smile in her voice, too.
The line falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that happens when words aren’t necessary, when something deeper connects us.
