Chapter 13 #2
"Understood." Rafael's already typing on his phone, probably messaging Luca and Enzo simultaneously. "What about Alessia? You want additional security on her while you're gone?"
The question makes my chest tighten. "Double the guards on my room. No one goes in or out except Isabella. If this is a distraction to make a play for her, I need to know immediately."
"You think Emilio would be that bold? To try to take her back while you're meeting with him?"
"I think Emilio would do anything if he thought it would give him an advantage," I say flatly.
Rafael's mouth twitches in what might be amusement, but I catch the way his shoulders tighten, the tension that runs through his frame. He's worried. Won't say it out loud because that's not how we operate, but I've known him long enough to read the signs.
I can still picture him at sixteen, fists bloodied from fighting three men twice his size just to keep me from being cornered in an alley.
He's always been my blunt instrument—loud, reckless, fearless to the point of madness.
But his loyalty runs deeper than blood. When my father was murdered, Rafael didn't wait for orders.
He put himself between me and the world until I could stand on my own feet again.
He'll charge into hell whistling if I ask him to, and he'd do it even if I didn't ask because that's who he is.
The drive back to the estate passes in strategic calculations that keep circling back to the same question: what does Emilio really want?
If he just wanted Alessia back, he could have tried to take her by force.
The ambush during transport proved he's willing to spill blood.
So why the diplomatic approach now? Why neutral ground and reasonable conversations?
Because he suspects something. Has to. Maybe someone's been asking questions, or he's putting together pieces that don't quite fit. This meeting isn't about negotiation. It's about gathering intelligence.
When I reach the estate, Enzo is already waiting in my office. Files are spread across my desk in neat stacks, because Enzo never lets chaos linger longer than absolutely necessary.
"Any progress on the leak?" I ask, dropping into my chair with less grace than usual. My body feels heavy, adrenaline from the phone call leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Enzo's jaw tightens, the only sign of frustration he allows himself. "Narrowing the field. I've been cross-referencing access logs with timeline data—who knew what and when. We're down to a manageable number of suspects."
"How many?"
"Thirty-two names." He slides a document across the desk toward me. "Everyone who had access to routes, schedules, or information about Alessia's movements."
I scan the list, and my stomach turns cold even though I know most of the names already.
These aren't strangers or peripheral soldiers.
These are people I know, people I work with, people who've earned enough trust to be given operational intelligence.
That is what hurts the most because I know one of them is operating behind my back.
Rafael's name is there. Enzo's. Even Luca's.
My brother.
Not that I doubt any of them, but even seeing their names in the list makes my stomach twist.
"When we find them," Enzo continues, his voice carrying the weight of certainty rather than possibility which gives me hope, "what's your call?"
The question hangs between us. When, not if. Because we will find the traitor eventually. Information always surfaces if you dig deep enough, if you're patient enough and ruthless enough in your investigation.
I think about my uncle Arian.
"You know already, fratello," I say quietly. "I’ll make an example that no one will forget."
Enzo nods once, accepting the order without flinching. He knows what it costs to give that command, knows I'm sentencing someone I probably care about to a death that will serve as a lesson to everyone else who might consider betrayal.
I lean back in my chair, dragging both hands down my face.
My eyes burn from lack of sleep—I stayed up too late watching Alessia sleep, memorizing the way she looked peaceful and unguarded after I'd wrung those sounds from her throat.
The fatigue sits heavy in my bones now, making everything feel harder than it should.
"These men have been with me since before I claimed the Romano name," I hear myself saying, even though Enzo didn't ask. "They're family in every way that counts."
"I know," Enzo says simply.
And he does know. He understands what it means to suspect the people who've bled beside you, who've saved your life and risked their own in your name.
When my sister Isabella was thirteen, rivals took her thinking they could break me through her.
For three days I tore apart the city looking for her, but it was Enzo who found her trail, Enzo who led the rescue into that warehouse where they were holding her.
He carried her out alive after killing three men with his bare hands, took a bullet in his shoulder that should have dropped him, but he didn't stop moving until she was safe in my arms. I swore that night that he would always be my right hand, that his loyalty would never go unrewarded.
Now I'm looking at his name on a list of potential traitors, and I hate it.
"Forty-eight hours," I say, making it a vow. "We close ranks. Run the investigation tightly and quietly. No one outside the Brotherhood knows we're looking."
"Understood." Enzo gathers his files with efficient movements, but he pauses at the door. "For what it's worth, I don't think it's anyone of the inner circle.”
“I agree,” I say as a get a look at my watch and see that it’s later than I expected. “My instinct says this is someone peripheral. Someone with access but not loyalty."
“We’ll find them, fratello,” Enzo puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m going to grab a coffee; do you want something?”
I nod for an espresso as well and when Enzo leaves, my phone buzzes with a message from Luca:
I got the Meridian blueprints and found three viable exit routes. Will have full tactical briefing ready by tonight, brother.
Good. If Emilio's planning an ambush, I'll be ready. And if he's not, if this really is just a conversation between reasonable men like he claims, then I'll walk out with the intelligence I need to end this war on my terms.
Either way, Alessia remains mine.