Dad’s on edge. Says something feels wrong but can’t put his finger on it. How are things on your end?
I’d responded vaguely, not wanting to alarm her before we knew more. Now I realize she might be our fastest path to Nico.
“There might be a faster way to get this information to Nico,” I say quietly.
The room goes quiet. Silvo’s eyes narrow. “What are you thinking?”
I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I... I have a direct line to the Moretti family.”
“What?” Silvo’s voice drops dangerously low.
I pull up my messages, my thumb trembling slightly. “Valeria Moretti. We exchanged numbers after meeting at that boutique in Rittenhouse Square a few weeks ago.”
Silvo’s jaw tightens. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“It started as just... two women trying to understand each other across enemy lines,” I explain, standing my ground despite the guilt churning in my stomach. “Then it became a way to gauge the Morettis’ temperature without official channels. I wasn’t hiding it—I just hadn’t found the right moment to tell you.”
Fed whistles low. “Well, that’s certainly convenient timing.”
“It’s more than convenient,” Isabella adds, moving to stand beside me. “It’s exactly what we need right now. An unofficial channel that won’t trigger alarm bells on either side.”
I face Silvo directly. “I know I should have told you sooner. But right now, people’s lives are at stake. Both our families are being played, and this could be our fastest way to get Nico to understand what’s happening before Tartarov drives another wedge between us.”
Silvo stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he extends his hand. “Show me.”
I unlock my phone and hand it to him. He scrolls through my conversations with Valeria—careful discussions about art and college life mixed with subtle references to our families’ situations, hopes for peace, fears about the future.
“You’ve been talking about peace this whole time,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice.
“We both want the same thing,” I say quietly. “A future without looking over our shoulders. Without worrying about which one of us won’t come home at night. Valeria understands that better than most—she lost her mother when she was two. She doesn’t want to lose her father to this vendetta too.”
Silvo hands my phone back, and something shifts in his expression. “Make the call.”
I stare at him, stunned. “You’re not mad?”
His jaw tightens, but his eyes hold understanding rather than rage. “I don’t have the luxury of anger right now. This is bigger than us—bigger than our families’ history.” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And honestly? I’m impressed. You saw an opportunity to build a bridge, and you took it. That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need right now.”
I’d prepared for shouting, for accusations of betrayal. His measured response catches me completely off guard.
“I was sure you’d...” I trail off, my prepared defenses suddenly unnecessary.
“Explode?” Silvo’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve proven something to me these past weeks, Carmela.” He gestures at the evidence we’ve gathered. “You’re thinking like a De Luca. Not just by name, but by choice. You saw a strategic advantage, and you cultivated it.”
Fed clears his throat. “Much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, we’re running out of time. If the Tartarovs hit another Moretti property tonight?—”
“I know,” I say, already dialing Valeria’s number. My heart pounds against my ribs as I put the phone on speaker. Three rings, then her voice fills the room.
“Carmela? Is everything okay?”
I take a deep breath. “No, it’s not. We need to talk—all of us. The De Lucas and the Morettis. It’s urgent.”
A pause. “This sounds serious.”
“It is. We were just hit—Atlantic City shipment. Three men were wounded. But here’s the thing, Val—the attackers knew details that were only shared between our coordinated teams two days ago.”
Valeria’s sharp intake of breath is audible. “You think there’s a leak.”
“We know there’s a leak. We just don’t know which family it’s in.” I glance at Silvo, who nods encouragingly. “We need to meet tonight. Compare intelligence, figure out who’s compromised before Tartarov uses this to destroy the truce.”
