“Everyone out,” I say.
Matteo hesitates. “Don…”
“Now.”
They move. In less than a minute, the security center empties except for Lucia. She stays seated, hands still, eyes on my face. She has learned quickly what kind of silence means in my world.
“What happens now?” she asks softly.
The question is simple. The answer is not. I walk to the screens. Study the feeds. Not because I need to. Because my hands need something to do that isn’t violence.
“Now,” I say, “we make sure there’s no doubt.”
Lucia’s throat works. “There’s no doubt for me.”
I glance at her. She holds my gaze without flinching, but I can see the fear underneath. Not fear of me. Fear of what this will cost. Fear of being right.
“I need proof that holds,” I say.
“Because of the family,” she guesses.
“Because of the blood,” I correct.
Her jaw tightens. “You’re going to kill him.”
It isn’t a question, and I don’t lie to her.
“Yes.”
Lucia’s eyes don’t drop. She doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t plead. She inhales slowly. Like she’s storing oxygen for later.
“Okay,” she says. “Then do it clean.”
My chest twists. Not out of guilt. Recognition. She understands the rules of this world more than she wants to. She just refuses to let them swallow her whole.
I move closer, stopping in front of her. “Go to Nico,” I tell her. “Stay with him.”
She rises, slow and deliberate. “He’s safe.”
“He’s safe because I’m still breathing,” I say.
Her expression flickers. Pain. Agreement. Something like anger at the truth.
“Do you need me?” she finally asks, and the question surprises me. Not because she offered. Because of the steadiness in her voice.
I look at her. At the woman who survived my son. At the woman who walked into my war room with her spine straight and dared to tell me she could help.
“I need you alive,” I say.
Her lips press together. Then she nods once. She moves toward the door, then pauses.
“Turo.”
I look at her.
She hesitates, then says, “You’re allowed to feel it.”
I don’t respond. Because if I let myself feel it here, I might tear the room apart.
Lucia leaves. The door closes.
And I stand alone in the cold glow of screens and evidence.
