Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nico
The door to my office opens without a knock. Only three people in this building have that privilege. Pietro, Liam, and Vittoria.
Liam's face tells me everything I need to know before he opens his mouth. The man spent fifteen years in British Special Forces. He doesn't rattle easily. But right now, his jaw is set in that particular way that means bad news.
"Close the door," I say.
He does. Then he crosses to my desk and drops a manila folder on top of the shipping manifests I've been reviewing.
"Jack Walker."
My fingers stop tapping against the desk. "What about him?"
"The loan wasn't from a legitimate source." Liam stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. "He borrowed from the Bratva."
Holly shit.
I flip open the folder. Financial statements. Bank records. A photograph of Jack Walker shaking hands with a man I recognize not remembering his name. But he's Bratva and we don't do business with them.
"One hundred thousand dollars," Liam continues. "All in Kristen Thomas's name. She's listed as the sole borrower."
My vision narrows to a single point.
"She doesn't know."
"No, sir. According to our surveillance of her bank account, she's been transferring fifteen hundred dollars monthly to Jack Walker's personal account. She believes she's paying down the debt."
I turn the page. Transaction records. Eight months of payments.
"Where's the money going?"
"Walker's account shows regular withdrawals. Cash. Gambling sites. A few transfers to his girlfriend's account." Liam's voice remains steady, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes. "He hasn't made a single payment to the Bratva."
The folder crinkles in my grip.
Every penny Kristen has bled for, thinking she was protecting her daughter. Thinking she was doing the right thing. Working three jobs, living in that shithole apartment, counting every dollar.
And that motherfucker kept it all.
"There's more," Liam says.
I look up.
"Interest has been compounding. The Bratva doesn't accept late payments. They've increased the total debt to one hundred forty thousand." He pauses. "They've given Walker one month to pay in full."
"Or?"
"They'll collect from the borrower on record."
Kristen.
I'm on my feet before I realize I've moved. My chair hits the wall behind me.
"They don't know where she lives." Liam's voice cuts through the roar in my head. "Yet. But Walker does. And if they apply enough pressure—"
"He'll give her up." My hands curl into fists at my sides. "He'll trade her location for more time."
"That's my assessment, yes."
I pace to the window.
She has no idea.
She has no idea that the man she trusted—the father of her child—signed her death warrant. That every payment she's made has been stolen. That Russian mobsters are circling her like sharks scenting blood.
"The Bratva won't negotiate." I turn back to Liam. "Not for this amount. Not with a civilian."
"No, sir."
"Options?"
Liam doesn't hesitate. "Remove Walker and hope that buys time."
None of those options solve the core problem. The Bratva wants their money. They don't care who gives it to them—they care that someone does. And if Walker disappears, they'll go straight to the name on the paperwork.
Kristen Thomas.
"Does Pietro know?"
"Not yet. I came to you first."
I pull out my phone. My fingers hover over Kristen's contact.
Tell her, something in my chest demands. She deserves to know.
But knowing won't protect her. Knowing will only terrify her. And a terrified Kristen might run—might grab Lily and disappear into a city where the Bratva has eyes everywhere.
No. I need to handle this first. Then tell her.
"I want eyes on Walker. Twenty-four seven." I set my phone down. "And I want to know every Bratva operation in Chicago. Every contact. Every safe house."
"Sir." Liam's hesitation lasts only a second. "This could start a war."
"I'm not starting a war." I meet his gaze. "I'm ending a problem."
Liam studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees in my face makes him nod.
"I'll have full surveillance in place by tonight."
He leaves.
I stand alone in my office, staring at the folder on my desk. At the evidence of Jack Walker's betrayal. At the price tag now hanging over Kristen's head.
One hundred forty thousand dollars.
The number means nothing to me. I could pay it from my personal account without noticing the difference. I could make this entire problem disappear with a single phone call.
But that's not what burns in my chest. What makes my jaw ache from clenching.
Kristen has been killing herself for eight months. Working herself to exhaustion. All because she trusted a man who saw her as nothing more than a convenient scapegoat.
She's been fighting a war she didn't know she was in. Against an enemy she thought was an ally.
I grab my phone and dial Dante.
He picks up on the second ring. "Sartori."
"Where are you?"
"Just dropped off Kristen and the kid." A pause. "Not at their place, though. She asked me to stop at some playground a few blocks from her apartment."
My grip tightens on the phone. "She's at a playground? Right now?"
"Yeah." Dante sounds bored. "I was heading back to the compound."
"Turn around."
Silence.
"What?"
"I need you to stay close to her. Don't let her out of your sight."
Dante sighs heavily through the line. "Why? She's just taking her kid to a park. It's broad daylight."
"Because she might be in danger." The words come out sharp. Hard. "Do as I fucking said."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Okay." His voice shifts. Professional now. "How close do you want me?"
"Close enough to see her. Far enough that she doesn't notice." I pace toward the window, staring at the city below. "If anyone approaches her—anyone who isn't a mom with a stroller—you call me immediately."
"Got it."
"And Dante?" I stop pacing. "This stays between us for now."
"Understood."
The line goes dead.
I stand there for a moment, phone still pressed to my ear. My reflection stares back at me from the window glass—jaw tight, shoulders rigid, eyes that look like they belong to someone capable of very bad things.
Good. I'm going to need that.
I pocket my phone and head for Pietro's office.
The walk takes two minutes. I use every second to organize my thoughts. Facts first. Then options. Then recommendations. Pietro doesn't like surprises, and he sure as hell doesn't like problems that show up without solutions attached.
His door is open. He's behind his desk, reviewing something on his laptop while Nora reads in the chair by the window. They look up when I enter.
"We need to talk." I close the door behind me. "Family business."
Nora rises immediately. She's been part of this world long enough to know when to stay and when to disappear. She squeezes Pietro's shoulder as she passes, then slips out without a word.
Pietro leans back in his chair. "What's wrong?"
I drop Liam's folder on his desk.
"Jack Walker borrowed a hundred thousand from the Bratva. Put the loan in Kristen's name." I watch his face as he opens the folder. "She doesn't know. She's been sending fifteen hundred a month to Walker, thinking she's paying down the debt. He's been keeping every penny."
Pietro's expression doesn't change. But his fingers go still on the paperwork.
"Interest has compounded," I continue. "The total is now one hundred forty thousand. The Bratva gave Walker a month to pay in full."
"Or they collect from the borrower on record."
"Yes."
Pietro closes the folder. Sets it aside with careful precision.
"The Bratva doesn't negotiate."
"No."
"And Walker will give her up the moment they apply pressure."
"That's Liam's assessment." I plant my hands on the edge of his desk. "That's my assessment."
Pietro is quiet for a long moment. His eyes move to the window, tracking something I can't see.
"She saved Ma's life," he says finally.
"I know."
"She's been working in our home." His gaze returns to me. Sharp. Calculating. "If the Bratva comes for her while she's under our roof—"
"It becomes our problem regardless." I straighten. "I'm going to pay the debt."
Pietro's eyebrow rises.
"Not from family accounts," I add quickly. "Nothing that traces back to us. I'll route it through shell companies. Make it look like Walker suddenly came into money. The Bratva gets paid, they lose interest in Kristen, problem solved."
"And Walker?"
My jaw clenches. "That's a separate conversation."
Pietro studies me. Really looks. The way he does when he's trying to read what I'm not saying.
"This is personal for you."
It's not a question.
I don't answer.
Pietro exhales slowly. Runs a hand through his hair.
"Do it," he says. "Pay the debt. But I want Liam tracking every dollar to make sure nothing bounces back on us." He pauses. "And Nico?"
I wait.
"When this is done, we're going to have a conversation about why you're this invested in a temporary housekeeper."
I nod once. Turn for the door.
"Nico."
I stop.
"Don't do anything stupid."
"No promises," I say.
And I walk out.
Kristen
The latte tastes like dirt.
I take another sip anyway, watching Lily tear across the playground like a small tornado with pigtails.
She's been on the swings, the slide, the weird spinning thing that makes me dizzy just looking at it.
Now she's conquered the climbing structure, waving at me from the top like she's planted a flag on Everest.
"I'm the queen, Mommy!"
"The highest queen in all the land!" I call back, forcing brightness into my voice.
She beams.
I'd imagined this day differently. Our first real outing since I started working for the Sartoris.
I'd pictured us laughing, maybe getting ice cream after, Lily chattering about the ducks while I actually relaxed for once.
Instead, Jack's voice keeps echoing in my skull like a bad song stuck on repeat.
The latte turns to acid in my stomach.