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"My cousins," I say, mostly because I want something to steady me. "All of you." Then I tip my head at Dante's box. "You too. Took us thirty-six years to find out."

His mouth tilts. A barely noticeable movement, but I see it. "Surprise," he says dryly.

It's still a fresh wound, this one. Giuseppe Sartori, dead with his good name intact, his friends in Rome, his name on hospital wings. He had raped many women, including Dante’s mother. The man hoarded secrets like other men hoard gold, and this was his most recent secret. Dante. Sartori by blood, the whole way by twenty years of bleeding for them. Now blood agrees with what loyalty already knew.

"Touching," Pietro says. "Can we get to the part where the youngest son of a Don is dead, and that Don is going to want to burn Milan to the foundations?"

"That part hasn't changed since the last time we spoke," I say. "Aldo's dead. So are the two men with him. They weren't soldati. Civilians, both of them. Aldo had no real guard. This wasn't family business. This was Aldo doing something his father would put him in the ground for himself."

Nico's fingers stop moving. He leans toward the camera, and his eyes cut straight to the bone, inventory everything, give back nothing. "Then why her? You think he knew she was connected with us?"

"No. She asked about a bruise." The words taste like rust in my mouth. "A girl on the shoot had a bruise. She asked the wrong question to the wrong woman, and somebody decided she needed to be taught a lesson."

Silence on the line, the bad kind. Lorenzo opens his eyes.

"Christ," Lorenzo murmurs. Even his curses are gentle.

"So Aldo's running his own trafficking shop under the agency," Bruno says, dragging it back to the cold facts, "and decided to handle a nosy civilian himself, off the books, at a party full of buyers. Sloppy. Arrogant." He rubs a thumb across his jaw. "Which means Enzo doesn't know yet. About any of it. The girls or the son."

"He'll know soon," Nico says. "They have her phone now."

"Dante," I say.

Dante sets his glass down somewhere out of frame. "If it's still on, it's already mine. Tell me the carrier when we hang up."

"Aldo reported to Mauro." Bruno says. "His cousin. Mauro reports to Don Enzo. So Don Enzo has it by morning. Or already. Depending on who the guards called first."

Nobody says anything for a moment.

Pietro breaks it.

"Vittoria won't take this well."

"She's going to want to come."

"She's not coming. Not yet. Not until we know what's coming for Valentino."

"Her family," Lorenzo says.

"Her mother will notice in six or seven days. Maybe longer."

"Maybe never," Nico says, still not looking up. "From what I know."

Nobody argues with that.

Pietro sits back. I can hear him breathe out.

"We have until the Basiles decide what they're going to do. If Don Enzo handles this inside the family, we have a week. If he makes a call to Palermo, we have two days."

"He'll make the call," Dante says.

Bruno looks at the camera.

"Luca runs the perimeter. Mancini stays in the house. Amanda doesn't see a window until I tell you. We'll have a plan soon."

"Yes." I say.

"You did the right thing tonight." Bruno says.