“You were gone,” Una says evenly. “Out of his life, out of our world. And that was for the best.” Her gaze sharpens. “You really should have stayed gone.”
Anger flares, sudden and fierce, slicing through the fear. “I’m not your problem,” I snap. “I never was.”
Una’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “No,” she agrees coolly. “But my son’s weakness is.”
The room spins. I want to spit at her, I want to scream, I want to punch through her perfection. But all I can manage is a harsh inhale, shaking, heart hammering like it wants to break free of my ribs.
“My son cannot lead,” she continues, circling behind my chair, her heels whispering against the floor, “if he is tethered to a girl who makes him reckless and emotional. A girl who teaches him to choose himself over his legacy.”
“I don’t—” My voice fractures. “I never—”
“Love him?” she finishes, stopping close enough that I can smell her perfume—cool, expensive, suffocating. “You do.”
“And that,” she adds softly, “is precisely the problem."
Niamh’s voice shakes. “She hasn’t done anything.Please. Let us go.”
Una doesn’t even look at her as she joins Antonio at the head of the table.
“As long as you exist in Matthew’s orbit,” she says, “he will choose you. Over the family. Over his future, the one I painstakingly planned. Over everything that matters. And that, my dear, simply cannot happen.”
Her fingers trail lazily over Antonio’s arm before she steps directly in front of me, blocking out the rest of the room.
Blocking out the future.
“You need to be removed from the equation,” she continues calmly. “Permanently.”
Ice floods my veins—swift, absolute. A numbing certainty that sinks straight into my bones.
“You helped Salvatore,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “You’re working with him.”
Una tilts her head, eyes glinting like steel beneath glass. “You think this was all Antonio’s idea?” she asks softly, venom wrapped in velvet. “No, Lily. This… operation? The women. The children. The buyers.” She spreads her hands, elegant, almost indulgent. “It’s been a team effort.”
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, broken pull. My pulse slams so hard it throbs behind my eyes.
“You,” I rasp, fury and disbelief tearing at my throat. “You—how could you? The Four Points would never—”
“Oh, the Four Points,” she interrupts with a soft, humourless laugh. It tastes like ice and ash. She steps closer, bracing her palms on the table. “So quaint. So small. So predictable. They think honour protects them. Codes. Loyalty. Morality.” Her smile sharpens. “It’s almost charming.”
My fists clench. “They willneverlet you live after this.”
Una’s smile widens, cold and victorious. “And that is precisely why they will never find me. This isn’t about loyalty, Lily. It’s about power.” Her gaze locks onto mine. “And power always wins. The Cosa Nostra is superior, the Four Points are merely children pretending to be dangerous.”
Heat sears through my chest, sharp and suffocating. My nails bite into my palms as I fight the urge to lunge at her, to tear that smug composure straight from her face.
“It is me you should fear now,” she says quietly, almost thoughtfully, “that dear old Benedict isn’t here to interfere.”
The name cuts me like a dull blade.
Benedict.
My biological father. The man who murdered Freya in front of Helen before Helen ended him. Far from a good man and yet,he’d been standing between me and this?
The realisation twists inside me, sick and sharp. What made him hesitate? What changed his mind? The questions claw at me, fast and frantic, dread and fury winding together so tightly it feels like my chest might collapse.
I shove back from the table, the chair screeching across the floor. “Stay away from me,” I gasp, the words barely sounding like my own.
Una’s expression barely flickers, but the cold in her eyes deepens. “Dramatics will not end well for you,” she says, her tone low, deliberate, hypnotic.
