19. Chapter Nineteen Bash
Chapter Nineteen: Bash
W e had survived. Barely. And I had no idea for how long.
The living room of the Naples safehouse felt like a war zone in the aftermath of a prolonged siege. Empty coffee cups and crumpled papers lay scattered across the sagging couch and mismatched chairs. A single overhead bulb cast a dim, flickering glow, its light carving out restless shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the stale scent of smoke and sweat.
We were all there. Battered. Bruised. Alive.
Justice sat on the couch, looking pale. Zane had helped her earlier, and he’d said she was going to be okay. If Zane said it, I believed him—but I wished it worked instantly. I hated seeing her struggle. Hell, I hated it so much when she was injured. Watching her grit her teeth and fight through the pain made me sick to my stomach in a way few things ever could.
But despite that, there was some peace of mind now. Hassan and Zane had pulled through and brought SJ back safe. They’d risked everything to protect my little boy and they had done it. I had been right to trust them, and there was something grounding about that.
I sat on the couch, the worn fabric sagging under my weight, and glanced at the baby monitor on the coffee table. SJ’s steady breathing filled the room with a soft, rhythmic hum. For a moment, I let myself exhale, grateful he was safe.
"He's going to be fine, you know," Zane said, breaking the silence. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Tall and lean, with a bandage peeking out from under his shirt as a reminder of his own bullet wound, he looked as worn out as the rest of us. "You don’t need to keep checking every five minutes."
I nodded, not wanting to argue. It wasn’t just SJ I was worried about—it was all of us. "Thanks for getting him out," I said, my voice gruff. "I know it wasn’t easy."
Hassan, sitting in one of the chairs with his muscular arms resting on his knees, shrugged. "We do what we have to," he said simply. His intense eyes met mine, and there was an unspoken understanding in his gaze. He knew what it was like to have family in danger.
I really didn’t want to dwell on SJ being in danger when the very idea of it made me sick to my stomach. We had things to do. We couldn’t keep running.
I cleared my throat. "We need to talk about our next move."
Skylar, who had been pacing the room like a caged animal, stopped in his tracks and smirked. "Let me guess. It involves a lot of guns and very little thinking."
"Vito has to die," I said, ignoring Skylar. "That’s the only way this ends."
Justice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet since we arrived. The gunshot wound had her looking pale and drawn. I could see the pain in her eyes, but she was tough. She’d pull through.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m here for it. I would love to just kill him and all his men,” Skylar continued. “Love the fresh smell of blood in the morning.”
Zane laughed softly. I didn’t.
"Look, Skylar. We can’t just rush in and start shooting," Zane said. "This isn’t some Hollywood flick where the bad guys go down in a hail of bullets and the credits roll. Vito’s got an army, and he’s not going to just sit there and take it."
"We need a plan," I said. "But it has to be quick. We don’t have time to wait."
Hassan leaned back in his chair, his disheveled hair falling over his eyes. "Zane and I have been talking. There’s another option."
All eyes turned to them. Hassan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Wanna take it from here, Zane?”
Zane uncrossed his arms and stepped further into the room. "Dante Moretti," he said. "He has intel on Vito’s operations. Schedules, shipments, guard rotations. Everything we’d need to make a move."
"Dante?" Skylar scoffed. "You’re kidding, right? That guy would sell his own mother for a quick buck. He’s not exactly trustworthy."
"I’m not kidding," Zane said. "Dante Moretti is the only reason we’re alive right now. He hosted us in New York City and helped broker a dialogue with Vito. It didn’t go well, but at least Sebastian was protected.”
“Dante Moretti is a dangerous man,” I said. “And going all in with the Morettis is risky. Are you sure they want a war with Vito De Luca?”
"We don’t have another option," Zane replied, his voice calm and measured. "It’s a calculated risk, but it’s better than going in blind."
“Okay, but how is that an option? It’s not like they’ve offered, right?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“They haven’t,” Hassan said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “But Moretti already helped us once, and the lines of communication are open. He’s not loyal to anyone except himself. He doesn’t need to offer. If we make it worth his while—if we convince him Vito’s death benefits him—he’ll get involved. He’ll want to be on the winning side.”
Skylar snorted, pacing to the far side of the room. “And what happens when we stop being the winning side? What happens when Dante decides he can squeeze more out of Vito’s crew instead?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Zane said firmly. “Dante’s already made enemies with Vito. We don’t have to push him far—just enough to give us the intel and support we need.”
Justice shifted in her seat, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s a gamble, but it’s not like we have many options left. If Vito’s already gunning for us, Dante might be the only way we stay ahead of him.”
“Convincing Dante’s going to take more than good intentions,” I said, shaking my head. “Do we even have anything to offer him?”
Hassan gave me a look, half-surprised, half-dismissive. “We still run Miami, Bash,” he said. “That counts for something. He knows we can help with distribution in Florida—and Miamians love their drugs. So…” He shrugged, as if that login was self-explanatory.
Skylar let out a sharp laugh. “I love how casually you just offered Miami up as a bribe. Did anyone else catch that? Or just me?”
Hassan didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s business,” he said simply. “Dante will understand that. And we’ll make sure the terms work for us too. To be clear, I’m not offering Miami. I’m just saying we can put his product on rotation too. Mutually beneficial.”
“No cut?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hassan shrugged again, his voice calm. “Admin fee, sure. But no, the real price we’re charging is Vito’s head.”
Justice closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I could see she was struggling with something, but I didn’t know what. She’d always been the most level-headed of us, the one who could balance our hot tempers with her cool reasoning. But having SJ targeted by Alicia’s mafia family had clearly thrown her off kilter.
"Justice," I said. "What do you think?"
She opened her eyes and looked at me, then at the rest of the group. "I think we need to be realistic. We can’t keep hiding, but Zane is right. I have no idea what the right move is," she said slowly, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. But she remained quiet, visibly uneasy, as the group continued discussing killing Vito.
“We have to worry about the consequences here,” I said.
"Consequences?" Skylar said, snorting. "Since when are we worried about consequences? This is about survival."
Justice glared at him, and for a moment, I thought she was going to explode. But instead, she sank back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I’m just saying we need to think this through."
I turned to her, frowning. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. "Just tired," she said. "I’ll be fine."
I didn’t press her. We all assumed her discomfort was from the injury, but I had a nagging feeling there was something else going on—something she wasn’t telling us. This wasn’t the right time to call her out on it, though I needed to know. I needed to know that she would be fine.
"So what’s the plan, then?" Skylar asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Do we meet with Dante or not?"
"We meet with him," I said firmly. "I meet with him. Justice should stay with SJ.”
“You want all of us to go with you?” Skylar asked, narrowing his eyes.
“No,” I said. “Someone has to stay back to protect my wife and kid. But we go in prepared for a double-cross. We verify his intel before we make a move."
Skylar shook his head but didn’t argue. He knew, as we all did, that we were running out of options.
"Fine," he said. "But if this goes south, don’t say I didn’t warn you."
The room fell silent again, the weight of our situation pressing down like a suffocating blanket. I thought about SJ, about how small and fragile he was. About how he was the future—not just for me, but for all of us. We were fighting to give him a chance at something better, something we’d never had.
"We do this smart," I said. "But we do it. Vito has to die. It’s the only way to protect our family."
The group started to disperse, but I stayed on the couch, staring at the baby monitor. Justice lay her head on my shoulder and we both watched our baby breathe.
“For a moment there, I thought I would never see him again,” Justice said, her voice a whisper. “I was so worried, Bash.”
“I would never let anything happen to you,” I said. “To either of you. You’re both going to live long beautiful lives. And when he gets older your arguments are going to be about how much he’s calling and if you like his girlfriend. Or boyfriend, or whoever. But nothing else.”
Justice sighed, her eyes distant. “I’ve felt so sick ever since…I don’t know, before the wedding. Like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I mean, it has, hasn’t it?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Something else is coming. I can feel it.”
I laughed, hoping to lighten the weight of her words. “I didn’t know you were psychic,” I said. “But it only makes you hotter.”
Justice laughed—a small, tired sound that made my chest tighten. “Thanks. I try.”
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest, darlin’. I need you at full strength. We all do.”
“You too, Bash. I’m just going to stay here and watch him for a little longer, though. You can go to bed.”
“No. I’ll stay here with you,” I said. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.”
SJ let out a small whimper, then settled back into his steady breathing. I thought about how easy it was for a life to be snuffed out, how quickly everything could change.
I wished this whole thing was cleaner.
I didn’t want to kill anyone. Not really. But Vito? I was looking forward to it. He’d threatened my son. Hurt my wife. Sent his men after us like we were nothing more than targets. As a rule, I didn’t love murder. It didn’t feel like a great solution.
But with Vito? I wanted it. I wanted it more than I wanted air.
I would make it last. And I would fucking love it.
Even if I couldn’t—even if it came down to a quick shot to the back of the head—I would do it. Because that’s what it took. Because Hassan was right: we did what we had to.