22. Crossroads of Fate
Crossroads of Fate
Ezekiel
T he amber liquid in my glass catches the morning light as I swirl it absently, watching the shadows dance across my desk. It’s too early for whiskey, but given what lies ahead, I need something to steady my nerves. The familiar burn does little to ease the tension coiling in my gut.
Leo.
His name echoes through my mind. The boy who somehow wormed his way into my heart along with his aunt. The child I swore to protect and failed spectacularly. My boy, though I have no right to claim him as such.
A knock at my office door pulls me from my dark thoughts. “Enter,” I call out, not bothering to look up from my drink.
Eli’s massive frame fills the doorway. “They’re here.”
“They?” I raise a brow.
“Eve and her partner, Narissa.”
“Ah.” I nod, setting the glass aside. I hope this means their conversation went well. “Send them in. And get Seb.”
My brother’s recovery has been remarkable—a testament to both his stubborn nature and Dr. Martinez’s skill. The bullet wound in his shoulder still pains him, but he’s mobile now, if a bit slower than usual. We need him for this meeting, need his tactical mind and his connections.
Eve enters first, her emerald eyes scanning the room with the practiced efficiency of a cop. The dark circles under them speak of sleepless nights and worry. “Is everything okay, or did you find something?”
“I just wanted you home,” I say. “It’s safer to have you close.”
Relief and worry war for dominance over her expression. Eve will not be able to rest until we find Leo. Behind her comes Detective Narissa Crane—Eve’s partner and, if my sources are correct, one of the sharpest minds in Columbus PD’s Special Victims Unit.
“Detective.” I stand, extending my hand across the desk. “Welcome to my home.”
Narissa’s grip is firm, her pale blue eyes assessing me with cool professionalism. “Mr. King.” Her tone carries just enough sarcasm to make it clear she’s not impressed by my attempts at civility.
“Please, sit.” I gesture to the leather chairs arranged in front of my desk. “We’re just waiting for—”
“Your criminal associates?” Narissa arches an eyebrow.
“Rissa,” Eve warns.
Before I can respond, Seb appears in the doorway, Eli and Micah flanking him. My brother’s complexion is still a shade too pale, but his trademark smirk is firmly in place.
“Actually,” Seb drawls, easing himself into one of the chairs, “we prefer ‘morally flexible entrepreneurs.’”
A ghost of a smile tugs at Eve’s lips despite the gravity of our situation. She’s grown fond of my brother—especially since he took that bullet. Watching him recover has brought out her nurturing side, though she tries to hide it behind her usual sharp wit.
“Now that we’re all here,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand, “let’s discuss what we know.”
Eli closes the door and takes up his usual position near it—always the sentinel, always watching. Micah settles into the remaining chair while Eve perches on the arm of Narissa’s, a united front.
“Leo’s been missing for thirty-six hours,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain steady. “In that time, we’ve confirmed that Alessandro Costa’s men are involved, but they’re not working alone. The level of sophistication in this operation suggests outside help.”
“Nicolo Moretti.” Eve’s voice is hard.
It’s not a question. My wife— and when did that word stop feeling like a business arrangement? —has always been quick to connect the dots.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze across the desk. “We know the detailed impersonation they put together to steal Leo takes resources and professional training. The kind you only get in organizations like Nicolo’s.”
I push away from my desk to pace behind it. The movement helps me think, helps channel the rage and helplessness threatening to overwhelm me.
“Nicolo wants me back,” I say finally, stopping to stare out the window at the manicured grounds below.
“He’s never forgiven me for leaving New York, for walking away from the family .
This—” I gesture vaguely, encompassing all the chaos of the past few days.
“This is his way of showing me that I can’t escape my past. That he can reach into my life whenever he wants and take what matters most.”
“You sound awfully certain about that.” Narissa’s voice carries an edge of suspicion.
I turn back to face the room, noting how Eve’s hand has found her partner’s shoulder—a silent request for patience.
“I know how Nicolo thinks.” The memories rise unbidden—years spent as his protégé, learning the intricate dance of power and loyalty that governs the mafia world.
“He’s a master of manipulation, of using people’s attachments against them.
He knows that taking Leo will force my hand, make me confront him directly. ”
“Which is exactly what we can’t do.” Micah speaks up for the first time. “Walking into his territory? It’s suicide.”
“No.” The word escapes me before I can stop it. “It’s exactly what we need to do.”
The room erupts in protests—Eli’s rumbling objection, Seb’s sharp curse, Micah’s quiet but firm disagreement. But it’s Eve’s silence that draws my attention. She’s watching me with those piercing green eyes, understanding dawning in their depths.
“You want to go to New York,” she says softly. “Confront him on his own turf.”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand. “Think about it. He’s expecting me to stay here, to react defensively. To hole up in Columbus while his plan unfolds. But if I go to him—”
“You throw him off balance,” Seb says. “Make him show his hand.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Eli growls. “You walk into his territory alone, there’s no guarantee you walk out again.”
“I won’t be alone. You’re going with me.
” I look at each person in the room, these people who’ve become more than just allies—they’re family now, in every way that matters.
“The rest of you will be my eyes and ears here in Columbus. And more importantly, Nicolo won’t risk moving against me openly.
Not when it would start a war he can’t afford. ”
“What makes you so sure about that?” Narissa asks, but there’s less hostility in her tone now, more genuine curiosity.
“Because Nicolo Moretti values one thing above all else—his reputation.” I sit back down, leaning forward across the desk.
“He’s built his empire on the appearance of honor and family loyalty.
Killing me in his own territory? After I come to him willingly?
It would destroy everything he’s worked for. ”
“And what if you’re wrong?” Eve’s voice is barely above a whisper. “What if this is exactly what he wants?”
I haven’t said the words yet—those three dangerous words that would make this all too real, permanent. My fear, the horrors of my past hold me back. But she’s given into her love, and she shows me every day. I see it in every look, every touch, every moment of quiet understanding between us.
“Then at least we’ll know.” I soften my voice, speaking directly to her now. “And you’ll be here, working with Narissa and the others to find Leo while I keep Nicolo distracted. Find out what he knows.”
“You mean while you paint a target on your back,” she counters.
“The target’s already there, love .” The endearment slips out naturally now, as easy as breathing. “Has been since the day I left New York. At least this way, we’re choosing the battlefield.”
Silence falls over the room as everyone processes the implications of what I’m proposing. It’s a risky play, perhaps even a foolish one. But it’s the best chance we have of finding Leo before Alessandro’s men decide he’s outlived his usefulness.
“I don’t like it,” Seb says finally, “but I can’t think of a better option.”
Eli and Micah exchange looks, years of working together allowing them to communicate silently. Finally, Micah nods.
“We’ll need to coordinate,” he says. “Set up secure communication channels, establish contingency plans.”
“I can help with that.” Narissa straightens in her chair. “I have contacts in NYPD who might be willing to keep an eye on things unofficially.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. She shrugs, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
“Don’t get me wrong—I still think you’re a criminal who belongs behind bars. But Leo’s safety comes first.”
“Agreed.” I look to Eve, who’s been unnaturally quiet. “What do you think?”
She stands, moving around the desk until she’s directly in front of me. The others fade into the background as she reaches up to cup my face in her hands.
“I think,” she says slowly, “that if anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I cover her hands with mine, drawing strength from her touch. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I didn’t survive twenty years in Nicolo’s world by being careless.”
“Promise me.” Her voice catches. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise.” I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. “I always come back to you now.”
Someone—probably Seb—clears their throat. We step apart, but I keep hold of Eve’s hand as we turn back to face the others.
“Right then,” Micah says briskly, pulling out his phone. “Let’s work out the details.”
The next hour is spent planning—establishing protocols, arranging transportation, setting up emergency contacts. Through it all, I keep catching glimpses of Eve’s face as emotions play across her features while she tries to maintain her professional demeanor.
Finally, when every contingency has been discussed and every possible angle considered, the others file out of my office. Eve lingers behind, her hand still clasped in mine.
“When?” she asks simply.
“In an hour.” I pull her closer, needing to feel her warmth against me. “The sooner I get to New York, the less time Nicolo has to prepare, and the sooner we get our boy back.”
She nods against my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt. “I should be going with you.”