19. Rafi
19
RAFI
D on’t you think it’s time to let your brothers know what’s going on?
Mason’s question echoes in my head, relentless, biting at the edges of my sanity like a dog with a bone. Admitting the mess I’ve stumbled into would mean admitting failure—a bitter pill I’m not ready to swallow. My brothers have tried their hardest to keep me out of the family business, to protect me from the evils of this world. And I just shat all over their protection; to confess what I’ve gotten myself into is to admit my own stupid defiance.
Still, I can’t ignore the nagging truth: if Jayson hadn’t had the presence of mind to involve Kanyan tonight, we might not even be having this conversation. It was Jayson who reached out, recognizing the danger I was walking into long before I did. His quick thinking brought Kanyan and Mason Ironside to the docks just in time to intervene, saving me from what could have been my last mistake.
The scene at the docks still haunts me—the heavy air, the ambush, the sheer chaos of it all. I went there armed with a tip from Tayana, hoping for answers but walked straight into a trap. The Russians were ready, their numbers overwhelming, their intent clear. It was only the intervention of Kanyan and Mason, riding in like dark knights, that pulled us from the jaws of certain death.
Even then, my first thought wasn’t gratitude—it was fury. Just knowing that she was in danger and I could be too late to get to her did things to me that sent my mind into overdrive.
The shelter was under attack. The same calculated brutality I’d faced at the docks was unleashed on her. Windows shattered, walls scorched with gunfire—it wasn’t just an assault; it was a message, one written in blood and violence.
I didn’t need to think twice. She was in danger, real and immediate, and I had to get to her. I’m a protector by nature—it’s in my blood, as much a part of me as my family name. No matter my anger, no matter the suspicions gnawing at the edges of my mind, I wasn’t about to let her fall victim to the same forces that nearly took me.
So I did what came naturally. I whisked her away, shielding her from harm, whether it came from the Russians or her own recklessness. I made sure no harm touched her, not through the bullets aimed at her or any negligence on my part.
Now, as I sit in the Moreno compound, safe for the moment but far from secure, the weight of it all presses down on me. The attack wasn’t random, and neither was Tayana’s involvement. She’s at the center of this storm, and whether she’s the eye of it or the cause, I can’t yet tell.
One thing is clear: I can’t keep this from my brothers forever. They deserve to know what I’ve gotten myself into, what’s at stake. I focus on the path ahead. I’ll protect Tayana for as long as I need to, and I’ll uncover the truth about Igor’s involvement. I’ll face the storm head-on, just like I always have. And when the time comes to bring my brothers into the fold, I’ll make damn sure it’s on my terms.
“So, all this was because you were chasing a lead on Maxine?”Mason’s voice slices through the tense quiet, his confusion sharpening the edge of his words.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I snap back, the exhaustion in my voice betraying how many times I’ve already explained this.
“You’re absolutely sure it was Maxine?”
“For the fourteenth time tonight, yes. It was Maxine. Sitting next to Igor Aslanov.”
The room goes still for a beat, the weight of that statement pressing down on everyone. Kanyan, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees, locks his jaw, working it back and forth like he’s chewing over the implications.
“We don’t have an in with Igor Aslanov,” he finally says, his voice flat and resigned, while his mind keeps working.
“No, we don’t,” Jayson interjects from his spot in the corner. He’s been so quiet, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, that I almost forgot he was there. “But I know someone who might.” Goodbye, Leo.
All eyes swing toward Jayson, and for a moment, he just stands there, letting the attention settle on him. Then, with deliberate ease, he uncrosses his arms and steps into the center of the room, his thoughtful gaze fixed squarely on Kanyan.
“Weren’t you the one who said, after the attack at Brando’s wedding, that Rudy Cavallo despises the Russians? He refuses to deal with them, which means he’s probably got someone drip feeding him information so he can stay ahead of them.”
A flicker of something crosses Kanyan’s face—pride, maybe. Jayson’s observation is sharp, and he’s right on the money. “Good point,” Kanyan mutters, inclining his head toward him.
“I’ll get Rudy on the phone,” Mason says, already pulling out his phone as he walks toward the window, the glow of the screen lighting up his face as he dials.
“Who’s Rudy Cavallo?” Tayana asks, breaking her silence.
“Another family head,” I answer tersely, not bothering to look at her. My focus is still on Kanyan and Jayson.
“What can you tell us about your uncle’s habits?” Kanyan asks Tayana, his tone measured but expectant.
She stiffens immediately. “Half,” she snaps. “He’s my half-uncle . And you’re more than welcome to that half.” It doesn’t escape me that she’s demoted him from uncle to half-uncle. I’m guessing her grandfather was married more than once.
Her arms cross over her chest, her stance defiant. Kanyan leans back slightly, one brow arching in surprise. “I’m sensing some unresolved family drama,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he studies her.
“Please,” she scoffs. “If you put me in the same room as him, you’ll be cleaning up the bloodbath afterward.”
Her words are sharp, but there’s something else there, a crack in the armor she’s so determined to keep intact. I see it in the way her shoulders tense, in the way she avoids meeting anyone’s gaze too directly. She’s hiding behind her defiance, masking the fear that lingers just beneath the surface.
I know she’s more afraid of her uncle than she’s letting on, but I hold my tongue. Who am I to tear down the protective walls she’s built around herself? If this armor is what keeps her steady, I’m not about to be the one to strip it away—not here, not now, not in front of these men.
Kanyan lets the moment hang for a second longer before leaning back, a knowing expression flickering across his face. “Noted,” he says simply, his eyes an unreadable mask as they turn away from her.
The room shifts as Mason ends his call and turns back to us, his expression grim but purposeful. “Rudy’s willing to meet,” he says. “But we’re going to have to tread carefully. He doesn’t really want to bring the Russians back into his life, and I don’t blame him, considering what happened tonight.”
A beat of silence stretches, the weight of the next steps settling on all of us. Tayana shifts slightly, her arms still crossed, her face a mask of neutrality. But I know better. Beneath her defiance, there’s a storm brewing—a fear she’s too proud to admit and a vulnerability she refuses to show.
And somehow, I can’t help but feel that no matter what happens next, we’re heading straight into the eye of it.
I haven’t seen Rudy Cavallo since the business with Daniel Russo and the Vicci family caused a restructure of the families and Dante Accardi called a meeting with all the heads. A meeting, mind you, which he insisted all the Gatti brothers be present at, so I was there.
Rudy doesn’t make frequent appearances, but when he does, his commanding presence is impossible to miss—loyalty and strength practically etched into every one of his movements. Beside him stands his youngest, Emilio, who always carries himself with a mix of ease and mischief. We exchange brief greetings, polite but distant, before settling into the living room.
The air shifts when Emilio’s attention snags on Tayana, standing by the window. His nostrils flare slightly as he gives her a slow once-over, his gaze lingering just a little too long.
“Ah. You brought a Russian,” he says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he turns to shoot me a wink. That damn grin tells me everything I need to know. Emilio Cavallo, at twenty-seven, has a reputation—he’s a real ladies’ man, and it doesn’t look like he plans to change anytime soon.
“Be careful, brother,” I warn, my voice low but sharp. “Do not disrespect a woman in our home.”
“No disrespect meant, Rafi,” he says, though his tone is far from innocent. His smirk deepens. “She yours?”
“I said, no fucking disrespect !” The words rip out of me like a growl, and before I can think, I lunge at him, grabbing him by the collar. Emilio’s laugh—sharp and mocking—cuts through the air as though this is all some game to him. He shakes his head, his expression taunting, like he knows something I don’t.
“Never thought I’d see the day, Rafi brother,” he says, as Mason steps in, pulling me back before I can land a punch. Emilio takes his time straightening his clothes, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. With a smirk and a quick hand through his hair, he adds, “Don’t forget to send me an invite to the wedding.”
Mason holds me firm, keeping me from taking another swing. My chest heaves with the effort to restrain myself, but Emilio just gives me another wink before turning away. My eyes flick to Tayana, who stands watching, unimpressed. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes like we are nothing more than two overgrown boys playing at being men.
And maybe she isn’t wrong.
“You said you need help with the Russians,” Rudy begins, leaning forward, his fingers steepled between his knees. His gaze flicks to Tayana, cautious, as though weighing whether her presence is a liability.
“She’s clean,” Mason says firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Rudy gives a curt nod before locking eyes with me. “Who, specifically, are you after?
“Igor Aslanov,” I reply, my voice steady.
Rudy’s eyes narrow, dark and calculating. He studies us in silence for a moment before turning to Emilio, offering a subtle nod. The shift in Emilio is almost imperceptible—the playful glint in his eyes dims, replaced by a hard, focused edge. Mischief might be his default, but when it comes to business, Emilio doesn’t miss a beat.
“Why the interest?” Rudy asks, his tone heavy with suspicion.
“We’ve traced Maxine Andrade back to him,” I say, the words clipped. “She was taken from us. The family wants her back.”
A charged look passes between father and son, the unspoken communication thick in the air. Rudy shifts in his seat, visibly uncomfortable, but it’s Emilio who breaks the silence.
“The timing’s… interesting,” he says carefully. “Dante’s already got us working a few leads to figure out who hit Brando’s wedding.”
I frown, the pieces not quite fitting. “Hold up. Wasn’t that Moreno, with some Russian muscle?”
“Yes. And no,” Rudy interjects, his voice grave.
I glare at him, irritation sparking. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Rudy exhales heavily. “Victor Moreno sold you out to the Russians, thinking it would secure his seat at the table. But to them, he was just another disposable traitor. The Russians had their own agenda—we think payback for those containers you intercepted.”
“The cargo?”Mason asks, disbelief etched into his features. “You’re saying that was about the confiscated shipments?”
Emilio leans forward, his tone sharp as he explains. “Those containers were headed to Russia. Between the bodies, the arms, and the stolen artwork, someone lost a fortune. It’s not something that’s taken lightly.”
“Igor Aslanov?”
“Actually, his name hasn’t come up,”Emilio says. “He may have your girl, but we don’t think he’s related to the attack on the wedding party.”
“The Russian’s are out for blood,” Rudy adds, his voice low and ominous. “But we don’t know which Russian.”
A faint, distressed sound cuts through the tension—a soft, stifled mewl from across the room. My head snaps up, and Tayana’s standing there, pale and trembling, her breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. She’s hyperventilating, her body curling inward as though trying to shield herself from the weight of our words.
I hadn’t even thought how this conversation would affect her, and now I see that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to conduct our business in front of her. I rise, taking long strides until I’m standing before her, my hand going to her elbow to steady her.
“Breathe, Tayana. Just breathe.”
“You…how can he be here?” She asks. Why is he here?”