"Gabriel." I look at him across the table. "How long to reach the tunnel entrance and navigate to the compound?"
"Twenty minutes to the speakeasy, ten minutes to navigate the tunnels, five minutes to breach the basement." Gabriel folds his arms. "Thirty-five minutes total, assuming no complications."
I check my watch. 9:47 PM.
"Then here is how it goes," I say, planting both hands on the table. "Luca leaves now. Triggers the chaos at the docks at eleven sharp. Patrick responds, leaves the compound. Callahan moves Erin to the basement." I look between them. "Luca, once the docks are burning and Patrick has taken the bait, circle back to the speakeasy. We go in together. Gabriel, Luca, and I enter through the tunnels at midnight, extract Erin, and are out by twelve-thirty at the latest."
"And Patrick?" Luca asks again, because we still have not addressed the central question.
I look at both of them.Gabriel, who has been my cousin and my right hand since we were children, and Luca, who has been the other half since birth. Two men I trust with my life, with Rosalina's life, with everything that matters.
"Patrick will be at the docks dealing with the fire or the theft or whatever chaos Luca creates," I say slowly. "Which means he will be exposed. Vulnerable. Away from his compound and his guards."
Understanding dawns in Luca's eyes. "You want me to take him after we extract Erin."
"I want you to end him," I correct. "Permanently. After we get Erin out safely, you go to the docks and eliminate the threat. No witnesses, no loose ends. Patrick Murphy dies tonight, and the story is that he was killed during an attack by rivals trying to move in on O'Connor territory."
"And Callahan takes over," Gabriel says, nodding slowly. "Claims Patrick's death as an unfortunate casualty of his poor leadership and consolidates power with the backing of Seamus's old guard."
"While we deliver Erin safely back to Rosalina," I finish. "And everyone lives happily ever after except the man who murdered Seamus and Dolan."
Luca is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then: "I want to look him in the eyes when I do it. I want him to know why he is dying."
"Take as much time as you need," I tell him. "Just make sure he is dead before one AM."
"He will be." Luca holsters his gun and picks up the bag of supplies he prepared earlier—explosives, detonators, accelerants, everything needed to create convincing chaos. "For Dolan. For Seamus. For every person he has hurt."
"For Rosalina and Erin," Gabriel adds quietly.
"For family," I say, and the word settles over all of us like a vow.
Luca heads for the door, pausing only to clasp my shoulder once—a brief squeeze that conveys everything words cannot. Thenhe is gone, disappearing up the stairs to begin his part of the mission.
Gabriel and I are left alone with the maps and the plans and the weight of what we are about to do.
"Your father will find out eventually," Gabriel says after a moment. "About tonight. About us attacking the Irish without his approval."
"I know."
"He will be furious."
"I know that too."
Gabriel looks at me, studying my face with that intense focus he reserves for important moments. "And you are willing to accept the consequences? To defy Giovanni for this?"
I think about Rosalina upstairs, drugged into unconsciousness because the grief was too much for her pregnant body to handle. I think about the birth certificate clutched in her bandaged hands, about the way she sobbed into my chest when I told her Dolan was dead. I think about the baby growing inside her—our baby, mine or Gabriel's or Luca's, it does not matter—and the family we are building together.
And I think about my father, who has spent my entire life telling me I am too soft, too emotional, too much like my mother. Who would see Rosalina as a weakness to be exploited rather than a strength to be cherished.
"I stopped caring about my father's approval a long time ago," I tell Gabriel honestly. "The only approval I need now is Rosalina's. And she needs her sister back. So we are getting her sister back."
Gabriel's mouth curves into a rare, genuine smile. "Good. Because I was going with or without your father's blessing."
"I know you were."
We spend the next forty minutes gathering supplies and weapons, changing into dark clothing suitable for moving through tunnels and shadows. I check my gun three times—loading, unloading, loading again—a nervous habit I cannot seem to break.
At 11:00 PM, the phone rings.
