The Castellano compound is in the industrial district, a sprawling complex of warehouses and office buildings surrounded by high walls and armed guards.
As our car approaches the gate, I see at least a dozen men watching us, their weapons visible and ready.
“Let me do the talking,” Sophia says, her hand resting on my thigh. “Ricardo knew my father. He’ll respond better to me.”
Every instinct rebels against the idea of her taking the lead, of putting herself in the spotlight. But she’s right. This is her connection, her father’s legacy. I nod, and she squeezes my leg in thanks.
The guards search us thoroughly before allowing us through the gate. They take our weapons, which makes my skin crawl, but Sophia remains calm and composed.
She walks beside me with her head high.
Ricardo Castellano meets us in his office, a surprisingly modest room with worn furniture and family photos on the walls.
He’s in his sixties, with silver hair and sharp brown eyes that miss nothing.
When he sees Sophia, something shifts in his expression.
“Vincent’s daughter,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “You have his eyes.”
“Mr. Castellano.” Sophia extends her hand, and he takes it, holding it between both of his. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“I heard about Vincent’s death.” Ricardo’s gaze flicks to me, and I see the question there. “I heard Mikhail Artyomov killed him.”
“He did.” Sophia’s voice doesn’t waver. “But my father was innocent of the crimes Mikhail believed he committed. Lorenzo orchestrated everything. He framed my father, manipulated Mikhail, and destroyed both our families.”
Ricardo releases her hand and gestures for us to sit. “Tell me everything.”
Sophia does, her voice steady as she recounts the whole twisted story.
Lorenzo’s betrayal.
Nicole’s rape and murder.
My misguided revenge.
Adrian’s involvement.
Father Miguel’s murder.
I watch Ricardo’s face as he listens, see the anger building in his eyes.
“Lorenzo has been a cancer in this city for too long,” Ricardo says when Sophia finishes. “He’s moved against my family as well. Stolen shipments, killed my men, tried to take my territory. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to strike back.”
“Then strike with us,” I say, speaking for the first time. “Help us take him down, and we’ll make sure his territory is divided fairly among those who stood against him.”
Ricardo studies me for a long moment. “You’re asking me to go to war.”
“I’m asking you to honor the debt you owe my father,” Sophia says. “He saved your life. Now I’m asking you to help save mine.”
The room falls silent. I can hear my own heartbeat, feel Sophia’s tension radiating beside me. Everything hinges on this moment, on Ricardo’s decision.
Finally, Ricardo stands and extends his hand to me. “Vincent Moretti was a good man who made some bad choices. But he was loyal, and he kept his word. I’ll do the same. You have my men, my weapons, and my support.”
Relief floods through me as I shake his hand. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Ricardo’s smile is grim. “Lorenzo won’t go down easy. This will be bloody.”
“I’m counting on it,” I reply.
