Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
I walk into Damiano's office, my fists clenched tight enough that my nails leave half-moons on my palms. Enzo leans against the mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest. Damiano sits behind it, fingers steepled like he's already expecting the bullshit I'm about to say.
"I want Ivan dead," I announce without preamble. "Tonight. I'll handle it myself."
The room goes quiet. Damiano's eyes narrow slightly—the only indication he's even heard me.
"No." One word. Final as a bullet.
"What do you mean 'no'?" I step forward. "He has Jessica. He's coming for Evelyn. We cut the head off the snake now."
Enzo snorts. "And start a fucking war with the entire Russian syndicate? Brilliant plan."
"We're already at war," I snap.
Damiano rises from his chair and something in his movement silences both of us.
"We need to act smart, Noah. Not fast." His voice is measured, controlled. "Ivan has connections throughout Eastern Europe. Kill him without preparation and we'll have the entire Bratva breathing down our necks."
"So we just wait while he?—"
"We locate Jessica first." Damiano cuts me off. "We gather intelligence. We find his vulnerabilities. Then we strike."
I slam my palm against the wall. "There's no time for that shit."
Enzo pushes off the desk, moving toward me. "You've always been brave, Rivera. Reckless, even. But bravery doesn't mean you always win."
"This isn't about winning," I growl.
"No?" Enzo tilts his head. "Then what's it about? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're thinking with your dick instead of your brain."
My hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. "Say that again."
Damiano's voice cracks like a whip. "Enough."
We separate, but the tension remains electric.
"Noah," Damiano says, softer now. "I understand. Ten months watching her. Now she's in your home, in your bed. But rushing in half-cocked gets everyone killed—including her."
The truth of his words hits me like ice water. I take a step back, daggering a hand through my hair.
I exhale slowly, forcing my muscles to relax. The rage still burns but I push it down where it belongs—cold and controlled.
"You're right," I admit, the words tasting bitter. "Both of you. I'm not thinking clearly. Ivan will die, though," I say, my voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. "One way or another, I'll make sure of it."
Damiano circles his desk, closing the distance between us. When he speaks his voice carries the weight of his position—the authority that makes men like me follow him into hell.
"Ivan Volkov will die," he agrees. "But on our terms. Without anyone knowing it was us who pulled the trigger."
Enzo crosses his arms. "We can't risk open war with the Russians. Not with the Colombians breathing down our necks about that shipment."
"We find Jessica first," Damiano continues, his voice softening slightly. "We gather intelligence on Ivan's movements. We create a plan that leaves no trail back to us. Then—and only then—we strike."
I nod slowly.
Damiano places a hand on my shoulder. "But Noah, understand this—if it comes down to her or this family, I will choose this family. Every time."
The message is clear. I'm on borrowed time. If I can't find a clean way to eliminate Ivan without risking the Ferettis, Evelyn might still end up as a bargaining chip.
"Understood," I say, though everything in me rebels against the possibility.
Enzo steps forward. "For what it's worth, I hope we find a way that doesn't come to that. The way you look at her..." He shakes his head. "I've never seen you like this before."
"There's a first time for everything," I mutter.
I leave Damiano's office with my jaw clenched so tight I might crack a tooth. The weight of his final warning hangs over me like a guillotine blade. I get it—family first. It's always been that way with the Ferettis. It's why I respect them, why I've killed for them. But now that same loyalty threatens to take Evelyn from me.
I stalk through the mansion's corridors, needing to find her. We're in limbo now—waiting for Alessio and Matteo to turn up something useful on Jessica or Ivan's movements. Waiting has never been my strong suit, especially not when every second that passes puts Jessica in more danger.
I check the solarium first, but it's empty. The kitchen too. Finally I follow the sound of soft voices through the east wing toward the family quarters.
I stop dead in the doorway.
Evelyn sits in a rocking chair by the window, sunlight streaming in behind her. In her arms she cradles Damiano's infant daughter. The baby's tiny hand reaches up, grabbing at a strand of Evelyn's hair that's fallen loose.
Something twists in my chest—sharp and unexpected. I've never thought about children. Never imagined a future where I'd have any. In my world family is a weakness, a vulnerability that enemies can exploit.
But watching Evelyn rock that baby, humming something soft under her breath, I suddenly see it—a house somewhere quiet, away from all this. A place with high ceilings where violin music echoes. A place with a nursery. Not just one kid, but several. A fucking dozen of them, all with Evelyn's stormy blue eyes and stubborn chin.
The image hits me like a blunt blow. I want that. I want it with a ferocity that scares the shit out of me.
Evelyn looks up, catching me watching her. Her smile falters slightly, probably reading something in my expression.
"Noah," she says softly, careful not to disturb the now-sleeping infant. "Any news?"
I shake my head, moving into the room. "Alessio and Matteo are working on it. We'll hear something soon."
I approach slowly, looking down at the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby looks peaceful, unaware that she's been born into a world of violence and power struggles.
"You're good with her," I say, my voice surprisingly rough.
Evelyn looks surprised. "Am I? I've never really been around babies before."
"Could've fooled me." I reach down, letting the baby's tiny fingers wrap around one of mine. "Looks natural."
I stare out the window as we leave the Feretti mansion. My hands won't stop trembling. Jessica. My little sister. The only person in my family who ever truly loved me for who I am, not what I could do.
"We'll find her." Noah's voice cuts through the silence, firm and certain.
I don't look at him. "You don't know that."
"I do."
"If Ivan has her..." My voice cracks. I force myself to continue. "If he has her, I'm going to him."
Noah's hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. "No."
"It's not your decision." I turn to face him fully now. "She's my sister, Noah. My baby sister. She has nothing to do with any of this."
"And you think Ivan will just let her go if you turn yourself in?" His voice is deadly quiet. "He'll kill her anyway. Then he'll have you too."
"You don't know that." I throw his words back at him.
"I know men like Ivan."
"I can't just sit around while my sister is in danger because of me." The tears I've been fighting finally spill over. "This is all my fault. I signed that contract. I put her in danger."
Noah reaches across the console and takes my hand. His touch is surprisingly gentle for someone so lethal.
"Listen to me. If you go to Ivan, you die. Jessica dies. Everyone loses." His eyes flick from the road to me. "The only way through this is forward. Together."
I pull my hand away and press my palms against my eyes. "If anything happens to her?—"
"It won't."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll do everything in my power to get her back safely." His voice softens. "And my power is considerable, Evelyn."
I look at him again, this dangerous man who's somehow become my protector. "If Ivan hurts her, I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never forgive you for stopping me from going to him."
"I can live with that," Noah says, "as long as you're alive to hate me."
I turn back to the window, watching the city pass by. "I'm going to him if he has her, Noah. I mean it. You can't stop me."
"Watch me."
I stare at Noah's profile as he drives, his jaw set in that stubborn line I'm coming to recognize all too well. The anger bubbling inside me is different from before—colder, more calculated. He thinks he can control everything, even my decisions about my own sister.
"You can't just lock me up forever," I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
"Not forever. Just until Ivan is dead."
I laugh but there's no humor in it. "And how long will that take? Days? Weeks? Meanwhile, Jessica could be—" I can't finish the sentence. The thought is too unbearable.
Noah reaches for my hand again but I pull away.
"I need you to trust me," he says.
Noah might be watching my every move but he can't be everywhere all the time. He has to sleep. He has meetings. There will be opportunities. I just need to be patient, to wait for the right moment.
"Fine," I say after a long silence. "You win."
Noah glances at me, suspicion clear in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
I sigh, making my shoulders slump in defeat. "I won't try to go to Ivan. You're right—it wouldn't help Jessica."
He studies me for a moment too long before turning back to the road. "Just like that?"
"What choice do I have? You've made it clear you'll stop me no matter what." I force my voice to soften. "And... maybe you're right. Maybe Ivan would hurt her anyway."
"We'll find her," Noah says again, reaching over to squeeze my knee.
I cover his hand with mine and give him what I hope looks like a grateful smile. "I know."
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue but I swallow it down. For Jessica, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means playing along with Noah's rules for now.
Even if it means walking straight into Ivan's hands later.
When we reach his building Noah escorts me through the lobby with his hand on mine. His touch burns through my skin, a reminder of everything that's happened between us.
The elevator ride is silent. I keep my eyes fixed on the numbers as they climb higher and higher.
Inside the apartment Noah locks the door behind us. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into place makes my skin crawl.
"I need a shower," I say, my voice hollow.
Noah studies my face. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" I snap, then immediately regret it. I need him to believe I've given up. "Sorry. I just... I need a moment alone."
He nods slowly. "Take your time."
I walk to the bathroom, feeling his eyes on me with every step. Once inside, I close the door and lean against it, listening. His footsteps move away, toward the kitchen.
I turn on the shower, cranking the hot water until steam fills the room. Only then do I let myself break.
The first sob rips through me like physical pain. I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound but I can't stop the tears. They come in a flood, washing away the mask I've been wearing.
I strip off my clothes and step under the scalding spray, letting the water mix with my tears. Here, with the shower drowning out any sound, I can finally let go.
"I'm sorry, Jess," I say, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. "I'm so sorry."
My body shakes with silent sobs. The water beats down on my shoulders, washing away nothing. The guilt remains, heavy as stone.
I let myself cry until there's nothing left. Until the water begins to cool. Until my skin is red and raw.
Then I wash my face, letting the evidence of my breakdown swirl down the drain.