Chapter 37
Raze
The gates rolled shut behind us, and for a brief moment I let my shoulders drop, letting the silence settle in—Tone in the back seat humming under her breath, Izzy beside me with her hand resting lightly on my thigh.
The house came into view.
And so did the cars.
Three of them, parked in a straight line in front of my house. Black. Clean. Expensive. Worrisome.
I sure as hell knew it wasn’t the welcoming committee.
Atlas Cavalho’s car.
Gianni Cavalho’s car.
Marcello Cavalho’s car.
Tone leaned forward between the seats. “Why does it look like a funeral out there?”
“What now?” I growled.
Izzy’s fingers tightened on my thigh. She didn’t ask questions. She just watched the driveway, eyes narrowing slightly, instincts sharpening. She was learning my world fast—learning what calm looked like, and learning what disruption looked like. Because they all affected my mood.
This was a disruption.
I slowed the car, cut the engine, and sat for a beat. Through the windshield, Atlas stood beside his vehicle, posture still, face unreadable. Gianni was half-leaning against his door. Marcello looked animated as he tried to relay something to a bored Gianni.
Ominous wasn’t a vibe—it was a whole fucking energy. And it was currently parked in my driveway.
“Go inside.” I kept my voice even. “Both of you.”
Tone scoffed. “Since when do you keep secrets from family?”
“Inside,” I repeated.
Izzy opened her door, but she paused. “Raze.”
I looked at her.
She searched my face, then nodded once, and slid out.
Tone followed, but not without theatrics. “If I hear arguing, I’m coming back out with a kitchen knife.”
“I’ll try to keep the volume down,” I deadpanned.
They walked up the steps and disappeared inside. I waited until the front door shut behind them. Then I got out of the car and approached the three men in my driveway.
Atlas spoke first, as always.
“We won’t take long.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Because I really wasn’t expecting them.
Gianni gave me a lazy smile. “Is that any way to welcome your cousins?”
Marcello made a sound that might’ve been amusement.
I gestured toward the house. “Office.”
It was the first room to the left as you walked in. A deliberate choice when I built the place—because men rarely came to your home to talk about paint colors. They came to talk business.
We moved inside. The moment the office door shut, the air changed.
I moved behind my desk out of habit and nodded at the chairs. “Sit.”
None of them did.
Atlas remained standing, hands clasped loosely. Marcello crossed his arms. Gianni hovered near the window like he wanted a view of his escape route.
Atlas turned to Gianni. “Gianni requested this meeting. What did you want to talk about, cugino?”
Gianni exhaled, the faintest irritation in it—as if he’d rather be doing literally anything else.
“I’ve got wind of a hit,” he declared.
I didn’t blink. “A hit? On who?”
Gianni looked at me. “Archie Popovich.”
I looked at him, confused. “Archie?”
For a second, I saw it all in my head—Archie laughing in the face of danger the day he rescued Tone and Izzy. I felt the familiar coil of consequence tightening again.
“Well, it wasn’t me. I didn’t order it. Why would I? He saved Izzy and Tone.”
Marcello’s eyebrow lifted. “No one accused you of it.”
“It was implied the moment you walked in like pallbearers,” I shot back.
Gianni’s mouth twitched.
Marcello eased his stance, eyes narrowing on Gianni. “You can’t stand the man. You’ve got history with him going back years. Why are you telling us this?”
Gianni didn’t answer immediately. His gaze slid away, jaw flexing.
It was Atlas who spoke, voice calm and final.
“Because despite what anyone thinks of him,” Atlas began, “he’s been useful. And he’s come to our aid on more occasions than I can count.”
Marcello scoffed. “Useful is one word.”
“Asshole is another,” Gianni added.
I leaned back slightly, studying them. “So what’s this really about, Atlas?”
Atlas looked at me like I’d served him the only question that mattered.
“This could ignite another war. And I don’t want us stumbling into one because we failed to decide who we are.”
That hit deeper than the threat itself. Because that was the real question, wasn’t it? Where did our moral compass lie?
Archie was complicated. A man who’d survived too long by learning how to bend. A man who’d switched sides when it suited him… until it didn’t.
Until he’d chosen us.
Atlas kept going, “If we protect him, we send a message. We take responsibility for the fallout. We make enemies.”
“And if we don’t,” I reminded them in a low voice, “we send a different message.”
Marcello’s gaze flicked toward me. “That loyalty has an expiry date.”
“That saving us isn’t worth anything,” Gianni added, almost reluctantly.
Atlas nodded once. “Exactly.”
The room was silent.
Outside the office, the house was still. Izzy and Tone were somewhere upstairs, thinking they were safe. Thinking the worst was behind us. I wanted to keep it that way.
But peace wasn’t the absence of violence. Peace was a temporary agreement between men who hadn’t decided to start another war yet.
Atlas stepped forward slightly. “I want a vote. Uniformed decision. Whatever we choose, we stand behind it. No backtracking.”
He turned to Gianni first. The one with the most reason to hate Archie and let him die.
Gianni’s expression was unreadable for a moment. Then he huffed a laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his own words.
“Despite everything,” he began, “I actually like the guy.”
Marcello made a sound—half laugh, half disbelief.
Gianni glanced at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“You’re saying you like him,” Marcello pointed out. “You. The man who shot out his knees.” Marcello laughed, shaking his head.
Gianni rolled his eyes. “He was annoying.”
“He’s still annoying,” Marcello deadpanned.
“True,” Gianni conceded. “But I don’t think he deserves to die because he turned on his own to save us.”
Atlas nodded once, eyes steady. “One vote to protect.”
Marcello exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. “I don’t trust Archie as far as I could throw him.”
“Which, given your bum shoulder, is about two feet,” Gianni noted.
Marcello shot him a look. “But… I agree.”
Gianni blinked. “You agree?”
Marcello’s mouth twisted. “Don’t make me repeat it. I’m already uncomfortable.”
He looked at Atlas. “I think we should protect him.”
Atlas’s gaze flicked to me. I didn’t hesitate.
“He saved my family.”
That was the only reason I needed.
“And?” Atlas tested my loyalty to Archie—not challenging, but confirming.
“And we don’t abandon men who save our family,” I reminded them. “If we do that, we’re no better than the bastards we just buried.”
Silence held for a beat.
Atlas nodded. “Unanimous.”
Marcello sighed. “There goes my quiet month.”
Gianni cracked his knuckles. “Who’s delivering the message?”
Atlas looked at me like it was obvious.
I stood, pushing away from the desk. “I will.”
Gianni’s eyes gleamed. “Careful, Raze. The last time you delivered a message, you levelled half a district.”
Marcello shook his head at the memory, but there was a fondness in it. “Any idea who sanctioned the hit?”
“It was only mentioned in passing by someone who knew my history with Archie and thought I still had beef with him. I can find out.”
“We need this contract to disappear,” Atlas said.
“And if it doesn’t disappear?”
Atlas’s expression hardened slightly as he looked at me. “Then it’s war.”
I nodded once.
When the three of them finally stepped back out into the hallway, Marcello paused, glancing toward the stairs.
“You’ve got peace in this house now,” he commented.
“For the moment.”
Marcello’s eyes met mine. “Try not to burn it down.”
I held his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gravel crunched as the cars backed out and disappeared down the driveway.
I stayed in my office a moment longer, staring at nothing.
Archie.
A man half the world hated, and half the world owed.
I stood and headed for the stairs. Izzy and Tone were waiting upstairs, thinking the war was over. It was. But wars had a way of leaving behind smaller battles. And sometimes, the battles you chose after the war were the ones that defined you.
We’d just voted. And that vote meant something. Because it wasn’t just about Archie.
It was about what kind of monsters we were willing to be. And what kind we refused to become.