24. Gabriel
I'm over an hour late, and the others are already in the conference room.
Massimo doesn't call meetings that people stroll into late.
Alessio cuts off whatever he was saying mid-sentence when I enter.
I didn't have a chance to clean up yet. Some of the Mexican's blood got onto my shirt.
I don't give a shit, I'm not the first to arrive to a meeting in less-than-pristine clothing.
It comes with the job. We all know that.
Enzo stands by the window, drink in hand, staring out over the city.
Aloof in a way that announces the meeting has nothing to do with him, but I know from past experiences that nothing goes by the old goat.
Damiano is half-sitting on the table, spinning a pen between his fingers, keeping his always-present restless energy barely contained.
In stark contrast, Alessio leans back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp, tracking everything without looking like he cares.
Massimo stands at the head of the table. Four sets of eyes lock onto me as I enter. Measuring and assessing. Massimo's gaze hits hardest. Sharp. Unforgiving.
I raise my hands slightly. "I know. I'm late." No one laughs. Figures. "The cartel came after Audra's mother in the hospital," I continue, dropping the rest of it clean and direct. "I had to get answers."
That does it. We all know our priorities.
"What did you find out?" Massimo asks.
No wasted words. No bullshit. I step further into the room. "Salazar doesn't like loose ends," I fill him and the others in. "Pete dug into their accounts. That was enough to get him killed."
Alessio's jaw ticks. Damiano mutters something under his breath. I continue, "They don't know how much Audra knows. Or what Pete told her before they killed him."
Enzo finally turns from the window. "That makes her a liability," he states calmly.
I meet his gaze. "Yeah."
No point pretending otherwise.
"They went after the mother to flush her out," I add. "Pressure point."
Massimo's expression hardens. "And now?"
"They won't let it go," I say simply.
Silence settles over the room. Heavy. Final. We all know what that means. Massimo nods once. Slow. "The meeting later might get uglier than we thought."
Understatement of the year. Our eyes meet. And just like that, we're back where we've always been. Same side. Same war. He's got my back. I've got his. No questions. No hesitation. I nod at him shortly.
Massimo exhales slowly, then gestures toward the table. "We were just going over the damage."
I take a seat.
"Alessio flushed two rats out in his crew," Massimo continues. "Damiano found one in his."
Damiano scoffs lightly. "Kid thought he could double dip. Didn't even make it through the night."
Alessio cracks his knuckles. "Mine talked. Briefly. They had no information on El Recaudador."
Of course they didn't. I nod once.
"Enzo?" I ask.
Enzo swirls his drink lazily. "I'm watching Rivas. Under the guise of a promotion."
That gets a reaction.
"Rivas?" Alessio straightens slightly, frowning. "What the fuck did I miss?"
Right. Not everyone's been looped in yet.
I lean back, letting Massimo take it. His story to tell.
Massimo glances at me once, then looks at Alessio and Damiano before he fills them in about Salazar finding out who killed his men and is hiding Audra.
He mentions that Salazar was tipped off by the Collector.
Alessio's expression darkens. Damiano stops spinning his pen. "Why haven't you buried him yet?" Alessio asks bluntly.
Fair question. Massimo doesn't answer. He just looks at me. My turn. I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table.
"Because the Collector wants us to mistrust each other," I spell it out.
That gets their attention.
"All of this?" I gesture loosely. "The calls. The offers. The leaks. It's not just about information. It's about pressure." I look between them. "Only a handful of people knew about the Salazar situation."
I nod at Alessio. "You." Then tilt my chin toward Damiano. "And you." My gaze shifts. "Brick. Mauro, Rivas. And me."
Silence follows as the men do the math.
"So the rat has to be Rivas," Alessio concludes flatly.
"Exactly," I reply.
Damiano lets out a low whistle. "That's why you haven't killed him yet. You want El Recaudador to think we don't know who talked."
"The Collector is waiting," I agree, "for us to make a move. To turn on the most obvious suspect."
"To fracture," Enzo adds quietly.
I nod once. "Yeah."
Damiano leans back, dragging a hand over his jaw. He looks at Massimo. Then at me. A slow grin forms on his face. "You want Alessio or me to turn to the Collector," he figures, "because you accused one of us of being the leak."
Massimo nods once. No hesitation. "It's a dangerous gamble."
That's an understatement if I ever heard one. Alessio huffs out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a threat.
"Dangerous?" Alessio mutters. "It's fucking insane."
"Which is why it'll work," Damiano cuts in smoothly. He pushes off the table, rolling his shoulders like he's already gearing up for it. "I'll do it." The words leave his mouth too casually. Making it sound more like he's volunteering for a night out, not walking into a snake pit.
Alessio takes the bait and scoffs immediately. "The fuck you will."
Damiano grins, sharp and easy. "Relax. I've got the charm for it."
"You've got a death wish," Alessio shoots back. "Big difference."
"Same outcome," Damiano shrugs.
I watch them. Listen to it escalate. On the surface, it's a fight. Posturing. Ego. Underneath? It's something else. It always is with us.
"I'm the better choice," Damiano continues. "People expect me to be unpredictable. Reckless. It fits."
Alessio leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "No. It fits too well. Which means they'll question it."
"They'll question you breathing," Damiano fires back. "That's not exactly a strong argument."
Alessio's lips curl. "At least I don't smile while walking into a bullet."
Damiano's grin widens. "At least I don't look like I enjoy it."
"Gentlemen," Enzo murmurs, but there's no real heat behind it. He's watching. Letting it play out. Massimo says nothing. Neither do I. It's between Alessio and Damiano.
Damiano has nothing tying him down. He turned his back on his family and is nearly done with his revenge. No girlfriend. Nothing is holding him back. Which makes him dangerous. Not just to others. To himself, too.
My eyes shift to Alessio. Different story. Same result. His old man beat anything soft out of him before it had a chance to grow. His mother left before he was old enough to understand why. No family. No roots. Nothing but us.
Even with us, there's a line he won't cross. Doesn't let anyone cross. He doesn't get close. Not really. Doesn't believe in it. Doesn't trust it. Still, we're the only thing close to a family he's got. He'd die before he let anything touch it.
"I'll do it," Alessio says again, quieter this time. More dangerous. "I don't have anything to lose."
Damiano snorts. "Yeah? Join the club."
Alessio's eyes flick to him. Cold. "You think you don't?"
That lands. For a second—just a second—Damiano's grin falters. Then it's back. "Better me than you," he says lightly. "You're too obvious. You'd stab the Collector five minutes into the conversation."
Alessio shrugs. "Probably."
Massimo finally moves. Just enough to pull the room back under control. "Enough."
One word. That's all it takes. They both fall silent. But the tension stays. Coiled. Ready. I lean back. I don't envy Massimo the title of Don. The responsibility of being our boss. Least of all right now. I exhale slowly because the truth is, they're both right. And that's the problem.
Massimo nods once, looking between them. "I'm glad to see you both so eager."
A faint edge of approval. But his eyes are sharp. Calculating. "Timing is going to be a big part of this."
Enzo inclines his head slightly. "I'm willing to bet he's watching us right now."
He's right. If I were the Collector, I would be too. Not inside this room. No one gets that close. But outside? Eyes could be everywhere. People watching who comes and goes. Who leaves first. Who looks pissed. Who looks like they just got cut loose.
Massimo's gaze flicks between Alessio and Damiano. "I want both of you to walk out of here like you've got a problem."
Alessio smirks faintly. "That won't be hard."
Damiano chuckles. "Acting. Haven't done that in a long time."
Massimo doesn't react. "I want it convincing. I want whoever is watching to think something just broke." That sobers them both. "Because if Enzo's right—and he usually is—then the Collector is going to bite."
He looks from one to the other. "I'd bet he calls one of you within the hour. Maybe both."
Damiano's grin turns sharper. "Let him."
"Report back to me," Massimo adds. "Every word."
His voice drops. Colder. More dangerous. "We're going to outsmart this piece of shit who thinks he can come between us."
I nod. Because that? That's not happening.
Not ever. No one comes between us. Not fear.
Not money. Not some ghost hiding behind a phone line.
We've fought too hard for this. Bled too much.
Lost too much. Blood doesn't make a family.
If it did, half of us wouldn't be sitting here.
What we have? It's stronger. It was forged in fire, in pain during nights that should've ended us.
I'll always remember the night I found Massimo.
It's carved into my brain. We'd just had a meeting.
Small. Nothing unusual. Alessio brought Damiano along for the first time.
I remember thinking: this rich pretty boy doesn't belong here.
I figured he might last a week before someone chewed him up and spat him out. I was wrong.
But that night, none of that mattered. We stood in that alley longer than we should have. Talking. Sizing each other up. Alessio, already half in, half out. Damiano was leaning against the wall with not a care in the world, even then.
Massimo left first. Just a few minutes ahead of me. Just a few. Something I'll never forgive myself for. Because if I'd walked out with him—if I'd been there—maybe I would've seen it coming. Maybe I would've heard the engine. Seen the headlights. Stopped the car.
Instead, he turned the corner alone. And walked into hell.
I heard the bang and ran. I watched the car back up and drive over a lifeless form on the ground.
It took me a moment to realize the body on the ground was Massimo.
I fired at the car, but it was too late; he'd already run over Massimo twice.
The fucker took off without me having a chance to make out the license plate.
Alessio and Damiano were already gone, so it was up to me to scrape Massimo off the ground, finding him, to my surprise, still alive.
Blood was spreading beneath him, soaking into the concrete like the city was swallowing him whole.
I dropped to my knees. Hands already covered in his blood before I even touched him. "Massimo."
No response. Just that shallow, broken breathing. I remember thinking, don't you fucking die on me. Not like this. Not in an alley. Not because of some coward hiding behind a car.
Bello told us later that the hit was ordered by Massimo's own blood. His cousins. Family. They'd tried to erase him as if he never mattered. Left him there like roadkill.
They were wrong. About him. About us.
I glance around the table. At Alessio. At Damiano. At the men who came after that night. Who stood beside us as we built something from that blood. From that betrayal. From that fire.
No one is ever putting one of us in the ground.
They can try. They did, they will again.
But none of them will succeed. Not ever.
Not while I'm still breathing. Massimo has and always will be at the front.
Me at his right, Enzo at his left. And following just behind, Damiano.
Alessio. Each of us brings a different strength to the table.
Each of us is broken in our own way. But together?
We're something else. We fought. We took.
We carved our place into this city. And we won't let go.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
I look around the room. At the men who stood in that fire with me. Who came out the other side. Stronger. Sharper. Unbreakable.
"They picked the wrong family," I observe quietly, meaning every word.
As if she'd been waiting for this, the door opens, and Jenna storms in. Her eyes, for once, don't go straight to Massimo, but land on me. Filled with fire that would burn a lesser man.
"Bro, what did you do?" Alessio questions next to me.
"You!" Jenna's finger is pointed at me, not giving me any time to respond to Alessio. "I want to see her."
My gaze moves from her to Massimo, who shrugs, but watches us with hawk eyes. He knows my temper. He knows I would never hurt a woman, but he's also seen Jenna and the damage she can do. He has a right to be concerned, even though his concern should be for me, not his wife.
"Who?" I ask, although I've already got a pretty good idea who she's referring to. Audra.
Jenna was more than a little perturbed by my covert stalking of Audra before. I glare at Massimo, knowing he's the only source who could've told Jenna that Audra is staying with me.
"Don't play dumb, Gabriel D'Amato, it doesn't suit you." She stops right in front of me.
She has to lean up to look into my eyes, but I swear I see fire dancing in hers.
The height difference does nothing to diminish the fury emanating from her.
Her hands become fists that she presses into her hips.
"That woman you've been stalking. I want to talk to her.
And if you're holding her against her will, by God, Gabe, I'll end you. "
Damiano snickers, Alessio leans back in his chair. Enzo opens the microwave. I swear, if that bastard pops popcorn in it, I'll kill him.
"Whoa," I lift my hands in defense. "She's not there against her will. I swear, Jenna. It's just safer for her right?—"
"She will have to tell me that herself," Jenna insists.
Again, I turn my head towards Massimo, whose grin has spread so wide, it would circle his head if it could. Asshole.
"Fine," I concede. "Massimo, Jenna, would you two like to join Audra, Stacy, and me for dinner?"
Jenna inclines her head, "With pleasure."
Fuck, this is going to be interesting.