24. The Final Reckoning
The Final Reckoning
Ezekiel
I lean back in my leather chair, studying the faces of my most trusted men gathered around the conference table. Seb, still favoring his injured shoulder but looking better each day. Eli, stoic as ever, his dark eyes alert and watchful. Micah, the quietest of the bunch but no less deadly for it.
“We end this tonight,” I announce, my voice cutting through the tense silence.
The words feel good—decisive, final. After days of watching Eve suffer through Leo’s absence, of seeing the shadows deepen under her eyes and the tremor in her hands as she reaches for another drink, I’m done playing defense.
Seb leans forward, wincing slightly at the movement. “What’s the play?”
“We invite Alessandro to the club.” I tap my fingers against the polished wood, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of blood in my veins. “Make him think I’m ready to talk about Gio.”
“He won’t come alone,” Eli points out.
“No.” A wicked smile tugs at my lips. “He won’t.”
Understanding dawns in their eyes. Good. These men have been with me long enough to know how I operate, to read between the lines of what I’m saying. Alessandro may bring his soldiers, but we’ll be ready. More than ready.
“Get every available man in position,” I continue. “I want eyes on every entrance, exit, and blind spot in this building. When Alessandro walks through those doors, I want to control every breath he takes.”
Micah shifts in his chair. “And if he doesn’t take the bait?”
“He will.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “My little visit to Nicolo rattled him. He’ll want to know what was said, what deals were made. His curiosity will override his caution.”
Plus, Alessandro has always suffered from an inflated sense of his own importance. The chance to gloat over having Leo, to lord his supposed victory over me? He won’t be able to resist.
“Once we have him isolated in the VIP room—” Seb starts.
“We end it.” The words come out in a growl. “Clean. Quick. No loose ends.”
Eli clears his throat. “What about Eve? You said we’d tell her everything.”
The sound of her name sends a jolt through my system—equal parts love and guilt.
She’s out there right now with Rissa, planning their own operation based on that anonymous tip about tomorrow’s meeting.
A meeting that, if everything goes according to plan, will never happen.
At least not the way Alessandro planned.
“Not this. This will be too much for her. We keep this separate from police operations.” I force my voice to remain calm. “Eve can’t know about our involvement. Not until it’s done.”
“She won’t like that.” Eli’s tone is neutral.
“I know.” I run a hand through my hair, remembering the fierce determination in Eve’s eyes when she insisted on working together. The way she trusted me with her heart last night, gave herself to me completely. “But it’s how I keep her safe.”
And Leo. He who never asked to be caught up in this war. He deserves so much better than to be used as a pawn in Alessandro’s twisted game.
“Besides,” I add, pushing away the guilt, “what Eve doesn’t know can’t be used against her later. When this is over, she’ll have complete deniability.”
My men exchange glances but don’t argue. They understand the necessity of compartmentalization in our line of work. The importance of keeping certain things in the shadows where they belong.
“Timeline?” Seb asks.
I check my watch—just past four in the afternoon. “Make the call now. Tell Alessandro I want to meet at eight. That gives us three hours to get everything in place.”
“And the other families?” Micah asks. “If we take out Alessandro—”
“Let them fight over the scraps.” I wave a dismissive hand.
“Marcus Barone will go down. Those warehouses will damn him for sure. Everyone else can go down with him or accept one thing, one rule—” I lean forward, letting some of the darkness I usually keep contained seep into my voice.
“My family is off limits. Eve, Leo, all of you. Anyone who comes after what’s mine answers to me. ”
The threat lands exactly as intended. These men have seen what happens to those who cross that line. They were there when I dealt with Gio after all.
“Get it done,” I order, standing to signal the end of the meeting. “I want everything in place before sunset.”
They file out one by one, already pulling out phones to set things in motion. Only Seb lingers, his good arm braced against the doorframe.
“You sure about this?” he asks quietly. “Once we cross this line—”
“The line was crossed the moment they targeted Eve.” I meet my brother’s concerned gaze. “Everything that happens now is on them.”
He studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Just, be careful, yeah? Eve needs you alive more than she needs revenge.”
The words hit harder than he probably intends. Because he’s right—Eve does need me. Not just for protection or safety, but because somehow, against all odds, she’s fallen in love with me. The real me, not just the mask I show the world.
And I love her. God help me, I love her with an intensity that terrifies me sometimes. Love her enough to risk losing her by doing what needs to be done.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “Now go. Make the call.”
Once I’m alone, I allow myself a moment to sit back down, to feel what I’m setting in motion. Alessandro Costa will die tonight. Along with however many of his men are foolish enough to follow him into my club. There will be no negotiation, no chance for redemption.
Some might call it cold-blooded. Eve certainly would, if she knew. But I learned long ago that in this world, mercy is just another word for weakness. And I can’t afford to be weak. Not when the stakes are this high.
My phone buzzes with a text from Eve:
Eve
Meeting with Rissa about tomorrow. Miss you.
Three simple words. I type back:
Zeke
Miss you too.
Before I can stop myself, I add:
Zeke
Stay safe.
Because I can’t help it. Can’t stop trying to protect her, even in these small ways.
I’m doing this for you . For both of you. I hope someday you’ll understand.
The next few hours pass in a blur of preparation. My men move through the club like shadows, setting up surveillance equipment and concealed weapons. I personally inspect every inch of the VIP room where the meeting will take place, making sure everything is exactly as I want it.
Two bottles of thirty-year-old Macallan sit prominently on the bar. One already doctored with enough poison to drop an elephant. The other brand new and opened just for this occasion. Alessandro’s weakness for fine whiskey will be his undoing. Poetic justice, in a way.
By seven-thirty, the pieces are in place. I stand at my office window watching the sun set over Columbus. The city looks peaceful from up here, all golden light and long shadows. Hard to believe so much darkness lurks beneath its surface.
A knock at my door. “He’s agreed,” Seb announces. “Eight o’clock, just like you said.”
I don’t turn around. “How many men?”
“Our spotters counted six vehicles leaving the Costa compound. Figure twelve to fifteen guys, tops.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “Amateur.”
Because that’s exactly what Alessandro is—an amateur playing at being Nicolo. It’s shocking that Marcus has allowed him so much leeway. That’s why he’ll pay the ultimate price for not controlling Alessandro.
“Teams in position?” I ask, finally turning to face my brother.
Seb nods. “Eli’s got the west entrance covered. Micah’s handling east. I’ve got men on every floor and the roof. No one gets in or out without us knowing.”
“Good.” I straighten my tie, check that my gun sits snug in its shoulder holster. “And the other thing?”
“Got eyes on the warehouse district. If they’re holding Leo there, we’ll know soon enough.”
Everything’s falling into place. Now comes the hard part—waiting.
I force myself to sit behind my desk, to project an air of calm control as the minutes tick by. Inside, though, my blood sings with anticipation. This is what I’m good at. What I was trained for during all those years under Nicolo’s wing.
The art of the kill.
At precisely eight o’clock, Eli’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Target approaching. Four SUVs, heavily tinted. Coming up the west side. The other two are around front.”
“Let them through,” I order. “Pat them down thoroughly, but don’t spook them. Yet.”
I count the seconds as reports filter in. Twelve men total, all armed but surrendering their weapons at the door as expected. Alessandro in the middle of the pack, wearing an expensive suit that can’t quite hide the fact that he’s sweating.
Good. Let him sweat.
“Send him up,” I tell Eli once the security check is complete. “Two guards max. The rest stay in the main room.”
A few minutes later, footsteps approach. A knock, then Micah’s voice. “They’re here.”
I take a deep breath, settle deeper into a chair. When I speak, my voice is perfectly steady. “Send them in.”
The door opens, and Alessandro Costa steps into my domain. He’s trying for confidence, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the room looking for threats.
You should be nervous . I gesture for him to sit. You just walked into your own execution.
“Drink?” I offer, already standing to pour two drinks from the clean bottle. I’ll earn his trust, make him think everything is fine before I go in for the kill. “It’s a special occasion, after all.”
Alessandro licks his lips, eyes fixed on the amber liquid. “What’s the occasion?”
I smile, letting just a hint of teeth show. “The beginning of the end, old friend. The beginning of the end.”
The crystal tumbler scrapes against the polished wood as I slide it toward him. Then I take a sip from my own glass. By this time tomorrow, Eve will have her nephew back. And I’ll have one less enemy to worry about.
Sometimes, love means getting your hands dirty.