Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Pietro
I sit at the head of the table, my fingers drumming against the wood as we wait.
Nora's beside me, her hand resting on the table where I can see it. Where I know she's safe.
Lorenzo leans back in his chair, deceptively relaxed. Nico paces by the windows, his agitation visible in every step. Liam stands near the door, still as stone, watching everything.
The phone in the center of the table might as well be a bomb for all the tension it creates.
"He should be calling any minute," I say, checking my watch. Tony knows what to do. We went over it three times.
The phone rings.
Everyone freezes. I hit the speaker button.
"Yeah?" Tony's voice fills the room, perfectly casual.
"You are late on giving me something this week." Declan's Irish accent cuts through the speaker, suspicious already. "I hope you have something be worth my time, old man."
"I have." Tony clears his throat. "I know Connor O'Sullivan's daughter is working for Pietro Sartori."
Silence stretches for three heartbeats. Nora's hand clenches into a fist.
"Why the fuck would I care about that?" Declan's voice sharpens. "O'Sullivan's family drama isn't my problem."
"I thought..." Tony pauses, playing it perfectly. "You've been hitting the Sartoris for months. Figured this was a good opportunity to hit O'Sullivan too. Two birds, one stone."
"And how exactly would you know about Connor's daughter?"
"I see things. Hear things. The red hair, the accent she tries to hide. Connor being in Chicago asking for her gave me the pieces to the puzzle. She's been working as Sartori's secretary for weeks."
Another pause. I can practically hear Declan thinking through the speaker.
"I want to talk to Michael," Tony says suddenly. "Before I tell you anything else."
"The boy's fine."
"I want to hear his voice."
There's rustling, footsteps. Then a small voice: "Grandpa?"
Tony's composure cracks. "Michael. Are you okay?"
"I'm scared. When can I come home?"
"Soon, buddy. Real soon. Be brave for me, okay?"
More rustling. Declan's back. "Satisfied? Now tell me what you know."
Tony takes a shaky breath. "The Sartoris are looking for their leak. They know someone's been feeding information to the Irish. It's only a matter of time before they figure out it's me."
"Then you better make this worth my while before they do."
"I can bring you the girl."
Nico stops pacing. Lorenzo sits forward. Nora doesn't move.
"You can deliver Nora O'Sullivan?" Declan's interest sharpens like a blade.
"For an exchange. The girl for my grandson."
"And how exactly would you manage that?"
"She trusts me. Thinks I'm just a harmless old man who's worked for the family forever. I can get her alone, tell her there's an emergency at one of the warehouses." Tony's voice drops. "But I need Michael back. That's the deal."
The silence stretches so long I wonder if the connection's been cut.
"Interesting," Declan finally says. "Very interesting." His laugh is cold. "Imagine his face when I'm the one who has her again."
Beside me, Nora's gone pale.
"So?" Tony presses. "Do we have a deal?"
"Midnight," Declan says. "The old Murphy warehouse on the South Side. You know it?"
"I know it."
"Bring the girl. Come alone. If I see a single Sartori soldier, if this smells like a trap for even a second, I'll put a bullet in your grandson's head before you can blink."
"It's not a trap," Tony lies smoothly. "I just want my grandson back."
"Midnight," Declan repeats. "Don't be late."
The line goes dead.
I look around the table, meeting each person's eyes. "We have four hours to plan this perfectly."
"We stick to the plan." Nora's voice cuts through the room, steady and certain. "If Declan sees even a hint that this is a trap, he'll kill Michael. Probably Tony too."
I turn to her. "There's no way in hell you're going anywhere near him."
"This has to do with me too." Her voice colored with anger as she stands, palms flat on the table. "I need to face Declan. I need—"
"No. There is no fucking way. We go in, extract Michael, eliminate Declan. Simple. Clean. You stay here where it's safe."
"Safe?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "When has anywhere been safe for me? This is my fight, Pietro. He tried to kill me. He used me to destroy my family. I have the right to—"
"You have the right to stay alive." I stand too, matching her stance. "We stick to the plan we already have. Lorenzo coordinates, Liam takes point with the extraction team, and—"
"She's right."
My head snaps toward Nico. "What?"
"Nora's right." My brother pushes off from the window, his expression unreadable. "Declan's expecting her. If she doesn't show, he'll know it's a trap immediately."
"Fuck you." The words explode from me as I round the table toward him. "You want her dead, is that it? Been looking for an excuse since you found out who she is?"
Nico moves fast, grabbing my shirt and yanking me close. His eyes burn with controlled fury. "If I wanted her dead, she'd be a fucking corpse by now. I had a gun to her head, remember? Could have pulled the trigger anytime in that warehouse."
I shove him back, but he doesn't let go.
"Think with your brain instead of your dick for once," he snarls. "This isn't about what you want. It's about saving a seven-year-old kid."
"Don't lecture me about—"
"Stop." Lorenzo's voice cuts between us. "Both of you. This isn't helping."
But I barely hear him. All I can think about is Nora walking toward Declan. Nora in danger. Nora choosing to go back to the man who tried to kill her.
She wants to leave.
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Maybe this is her out. Her chance to escape me, escape this life. Go back to what she knows, even if what she knows is Declan.
"Pietro." Liam's calm British accent breaks through my spiral. "We need to think tactically here."
I wrench free from Nico's grip, my chest heaving. Nora's watching me with those green eyes that see too much, and I can't tell what she's thinking. Can't tell if she's already planning her escape.
"You're not going," I tell her, my voice rough. "That's final."
"You don't get to make that decision for me."
"What if we negotiate?"
Lorenzo's words cut through the silence. Everyone turns to stare at him.
"Explain." My voice comes out harder than I intend, but Lorenzo doesn't flinch.
The warehouse district swallows light like a black hole. Empty buildings stretch for blocks, broken windows. The Murphy warehouse squats in the center, a massive brick monument to Chicago's industrial past.
Liam's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Positions set. Two on the roof across the street, one in the loading dock, two more covering the exits."
"Copy." I kill the engine three blocks out. "We walk from here."
Beside me, Nora pulls her coat tighter. The November wind cuts through clothing like it's made of paper. Her breath fogs in the cold air.
"You can still—"
"Don't." She opens her door. "We're past that."
Lorenzo and Nico fall in behind us as we move through the shadows. Tony stumbles along between them, radiating terror. The old man's lost twenty pounds in three months of guilt.
The warehouse looms larger with each step. Security lights—the few that work—cast pools of sickly yellow between vast stretches of darkness. Our footsteps echo off concrete despite our efforts at stealth.
"Movement." Liam's voice in my ear. "Three vehicles approaching from the north."
"Hold positions."
The cars materialize from the gloom. Two SUVs flanking a sedan. They stop fifty yards from the main loading dock. Doors open. Men emerge, weapons visible but not raised.
Declan steps from the sedan's rear, dragging something small.
Michael.
The boy stumbles, too small for his seven years. Even from here, I can see him shaking. Tony makes a sound like a wounded animal.
"Steady." I grip the older man's shoulder.
Then his eyes find mine.
"Well, well." Declan's Irish accent thickens with amusement. "Pietro Sartori himself. Didn't expect the Don to play delivery boy."
The gun appears in his hand so fast Michael doesn't have time to flinch. Cold metal presses against the boy's temple.
"Wait!" Tony drops to his knees on the cracked asphalt. "Please, wait! I brought her, just like you asked. Please don't hurt him."
"Shut up, old man." Declan's gaze never leaves mine. "You had your chance to follow instructions. Three months of perfect intel, then you go and bring the whole Sartori cavalry."
Michael whimpers. The sound cuts through the night like broken glass.
"Let the boy go first." I keep my voice level, commanding. "Then we talk."
Declan laughs. Α sound like breaking glass. "The new Don gives orders to everyone. How's that working out for you?"
"The boy, Declan." Nora says.
"Well, well. The princess herself." His smile could freeze blood. "I've been looking for you, baby girl."
He is going to regret that.
Nora steps forward before I can stop her. "Let the child go. Your issue's with me, not him."
"My issue's with all of you." But Declan's focus locks onto her like a targeting laser. "Especially you though Nora."
"I know what you are." Her voice carries zero fear. "A coward who uses children as shields."
Declan's face darkens. "Watch your tongue, bitch."
My hand moves to my weapon. "Call her that again and this negotiation ends with bullets."
"Easy, boys." Lorenzo's tone cuts through. "We're here to trade. Michael for territory. Simple business."
"Territory?" Declan's attention shifts. "What territory?"
"Dock access." I force the words out. "Pier forty-seven. Shared usage for Irish shipments."
The offer costs us millions monthly, but Michael's life and whoever's else over this endless war outweighs money. Declan considers, still gripping the boy's collar.
Besides, I'll kill him once I have the chance to have him not holding a child and Nora being close.
"Pier forty-seven. No interference from Sartori operations?" He asks.
"None."
"And the loading crews?"
"Yours to manage."
He studies my face, searching for the trap. There isn't one. Just a child who needs saving and a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
"Deal. The documentation." Declan extends his hand.
I pull the folded papers from my jacket. Contracts, manifests, dock schedules. Everything he needs for legitimate-looking operations. Lorenzo worked them up. Ironclad and legal.
The exchange happens in the middle ground. Declan takes the papers, examines them under his phone's light. His smile returns, colder than before.
Declan shoves Michael forward. "Go on, boy."
Michael runs. He runs, his small legs a blur across the concrete, stumbling but never stopping. Tony opens his arms just as his grandson crashes on him, both of them sobbing.
"Perfect." He backs toward his men.
"Oh, and Nora?" Declan pauses, turning back with that smile that makes my trigger finger itch. "Betraying your blood like this? Never thought you had it in you."
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. The gun at my hip burns against my palm, begging to be drawn.
"Connor raised you better than that." He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Your mother would be spinning in her grave, knowing her daughter's spreading her legs for the enemy."
The world goes red at the edges. My hand moves—
"Easy." Lorenzo's voice cuts through the rage, low enough only I hear it. His hand brushes my arm, a warning. "Not yet."
Every muscle in my body coils tight, ready to spring. To tear Declan apart with my bare hands for daring to speak about her that way. For using her mother against her.
Nora stands perfectly still beside me, but I feel the tremor run through her. The way her breathing changes, shallow and quick. She's fighting not to react, not to give him the satisfaction.
"What's the matter, mo stór?" Declan uses the Irish endearment like a weapon, twisting something that should be tender into something vile. "Cat got your tongue? Or does Sartori do all your talking now?"
"Pietro." Lorenzo's grip tightens on my arm. "We need to leave. Alive."
The word penetrates the haze. Alive. We're outnumbered, outpositioned. Declan's men have the high ground, better cover. If I move now, we all die. Including her.
"That's right, Sartori." Declan's backing toward his vehicle now, papers tucked safely in his jacket. "Keep that famous temper in check. Wouldn't want things to get... messy."
He pauses at the car door. "Give my regards to Connor when you see him, princess. Tell him his little girl's all grown up. Making her own choices." His laugh echoes off the warehouse walls. "Even if they're the wrong ones."
The sedan door closes with a soft thud. The engines start, a low rumble that vibrates through the concrete. I watch the taillights disappear into the darkness, memorizing the license plates even though I already know them.
"Breathe." Lorenzo's voice again, steady and calm. "Just breathe."
But I can't. Not with Nora standing there, shoulders rigid, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Not with Tony still sobbing over Michael, the boy clinging to his grandfather like he might disappear.
"Positions, report." Liam's voice crackles through the earpiece.
"Clear north."
"Clear south."
"Loading dock clear."
"They're gone."
Gone. For now. But Declan's words hang in the air like poison gas. We'll talk soon, love.
Over my dead body.
"Let's move." I force myself to turn away from where the cars vanished. "Tony, get Michael to the car. Lorenzo, take point."
Nico appears from the shadows, weapon still drawn. "That went better than expected."
"Did it?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.
We move as a unit back through the warehouse district. Tony carries Michael now, the boy's face buried in his grandfather's neck. Nora walks beside me, silent. Too silent.
"He's wrong." The words escape before I can stop them.
She doesn't respond, doesn't even look at me. Just keeps walking, one foot in front of the other, like she's on autopilot.
"Nora—"
"Not here." Her voice is barely a whisper. "Please. Not here."
The please stops me cold. She never pleads unless I'm making her come. Never shows that kind of vulnerability. But right now, in the darkness between abandoned buildings, she's barely holding herself together.
And it's my fault. I brought her here. Put her in front of him. Let him say those things to her.
The cars come into view, Liam already behind the wheel of the lead vehicle, engine running.