"Dmitri's men were already in position in Denver," I explain, watching the room process each piece of information.
Dmitri shifts in his seat, his arm draped protectively over Vittoria's shoulders. "My team took three days to map every corner of Alejandro's property. Entry points. Guard rotations. Blind spots in his security."
"Alejandro had eyes on everything the Sartoris did," I continue. "Every movement. Every conversation he could capture. But he was so focused on watching this family that he never thought to look at the Baganovs."
Vittoria closes her laptop. "He had eyes on me specifically because I run security. He assumed if he could monitor me, he'd see any countermeasures coming."
"He assumed wrong." Dmitri's voice carries that cold Russian edge. "My men aren't Sartori. They don't show upon Sartori networks. They don't use Sartori communication channels. As far as Alejandro knew, they didn't exist."
I nod. "The moment I walked into Alejandro's house yesterday, Dmitri's team moved. They'd been waiting for my signal. One text to a burner phone that wasn't connected to any Sartori system."
The room falls silent as the full scope of the operation settles over them.
Bruno rises from his chair. His movements are deliberate, controlled. He crosses the room to where Dmitri sits and extends his hand.
Dmitri stands, meeting Bruno's grip.
"Thank you," Bruno says. The words come out rough, like they cost him something. "For your men. For the risk you took."
Dmitri inclines his head. "Family protects family."
I watch the exchange with something close to disbelief. Bruno Sartori, the man who trusted no one outside blood, shaking hands with a Bratva pakhan. Thanking him. Meaning it.
A year ago, this would have been impossible. Bruno have seen Dmitri as a threat, an outsider, someone to be watched and kept at arm's length. But Bruno isn't the same man he was a year ago. None of us are.
People change.
Bruno releases Dmitri's hand and turns toward me. His jaw works for a moment, and I see the struggle playing out behind his eyes. Pride warring with something deeper.
He stops in front of me. Close enough that I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curl and uncurl at his sides.
"Dante." His voice is low. Rough. "What my father did?—"
"Bruno—"
"Let me finish." He holds up a hand. "What Giuseppe did to your family. To your mother. To you." Bruno's throat moves ashe swallows. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you carried that alone. I'm sorry you had to learn the truth from that piece of shit in the basement instead of from us."
I shake my head slowly. "You didn't know. None of you knew."
"That doesn't matter." Bruno's eyes are bright with something I've rarely seen from him. Grief. Shame. "He was our father. His sins?—"
"Are not yours." I cut him off, my voice firm. "I know you, Bruno. I know Lorenzo. Nico. Pietro. I know what kind of men you are." I hold his gaze. "None of you would have done what Giuseppe did. None of you would have ordered a hit on a family with children. None of you would have—" I stop. The words stick in my throat.
Bruno closes the distance between us. His arms come around me, pulling me into an embrace that catches me off guard.
"You were always our brother," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Blood or not. You were always ours."
I stand rigid for a moment.
Bruno's arms tighten around me.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and return the embrace. Just for a moment. Just long enough to feel the truth of his words settle into my bones.
When we separate, Bruno's eyes are red-rimmed. He clears his throat and steps back, composing himself with visible effort.
Movement catches my attention. Aria rises from her chair, her small frame somehow commanding the entire room. She crosses to where I stand, her dark eyes fixed on my face.
"Dante." Her voice carries the weight of decades. Of watching me grow from a starving sixteen-year-old into the man I am now. "I should have seen it. All those years, living under the same roof as Giuseppe, and I never—" She stops, pressing herlips together. "I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't know what he was capable of."
