Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
REMI
D omino didn’t just plan to kill Federico.
He planned to unmake him—tear his world down brick by brick, salt the earth beneath his empire, watch him drown in the ashes of everything he once ruled.
It wasn’t enough to kill him.
Federico had to suffer.
He had to wake up every day and wonder—was this the day? Was this the moment he’d feel cold steel sliding between his ribs? Would he see Domino’s face in a reflection, in a shadow, in the last seconds before the lights went out forever?
He had to fear us.
To know we were coming and be powerless to stop it.
And Domino was thriving on it. I saw it in the way his fingers twitched, in the way his breath hitched between words, in the sharp, cruel curl of his lips that made something inside me ache with dangerous, insatiable need.
The man chained to the chair was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.
Domino moved around him like a predator savoring the last few moments before the kill, his presence suffocating, pressing into the room like a stormfront ready to break. The air was thick with sweat, with fear—with blood waiting to be spilled.
“Where is he?” His voice slithered through the silence, whispered against Leo’s skin like a blade dragging over flesh.
The man trembled. His knuckles went white where they strained against the restraints, and for a moment, I thought he might piss himself.
“Nothing to say, Leo?”
His dark brown eyes darted to mine, desperate, searching for mercy. He wouldn’t find it.
Domino licked his lips and held out his hand, fingers curling in silent demand. The wolfshead switchblade spun lazily between my fingers, just within Leo’s line of sight. A taunt. A threat. A promise.
I placed the handle in Domino’s palm, my fingertips lingering against his, watching the shift in his expression as he weighed the knife. Something dark settled over him. Something raw and ravenous.
His head fell back on his shoulders, eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep inhale, and like a coiled spring, he snapped and drove it into Leo’s thigh.
Leo’s head snapped back, tendons straining, skin flushing blood-red, his jaw locking tight against the scream he couldn’t swallow. The sound still broke free, a wet, strangled thing.
Domino’s lips parted, and I swore I saw pleasure flicker through his eyes as he twisted the serrated blade, carving through flesh in a slow, deliberate circle.
Leo bucked against the chair, spittle dribbling from his chin, tears streaking down his face. He squeezed his eyes shut like it would make this stop.
Fool.
“Where is he?” Domino hissed, his voice curling around me like smoke, like possession.
Leo shook his head, frantic, droplets of blood and saliva spraying across the floor. The movement made him whimper.
I exhaled a quiet chuckle, biting my lip to keep it from stretching into something too eager. Too telling. He had no idea what kind of monster he was playing with.
His bloodshot eyes cracked open, locking onto me. I tilted my head, regarding him like an insect pinned beneath my fingers.
I counted down in my head.
Three.
Domino’s grip flexed.
Two.
His breathing steadied.
One.
Crack.
Leo’s nose shattered beneath the weight of Domino’s first punch. Blood sprayed in a perfect arc, splattering the wall, streaking across Domino’s cheek like war paint.
Domino shook out his fist, flexing his split knuckles, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths—a man savoring the burn of violence.
I leaned against the wall, watching, hungry. I could stop this, but why would I?
Watching Domino fall apart was like watching a fire consume everything in its path. Wild. Untamed. Beautiful.
And God, did I want to burn with him.
Leo choked on his blood, coughing, his body sagging in the chair. But Domino wasn’t done.
He fisted Leo’s hair, yanking his head back with a force that made my pulse stutter. His eyes were dark and distant—lost to something primal. Something irreversible.
A slow, thrumming ache spread through my chest, curling low and hot in my stomach. My nails dug into my palms, trying to suppress the itch crawling under my skin.
I wanted to be the one under Domino’s hands.
I wanted to be the thing he destroyed.
His pain was the most addictive touch I’d ever felt.
By the time Leo broke, his vault of secrets cracked open, his last word fading into nothing, he’d stopped moving. A useless, bloodied heap. Domino’s breath came in harsh pants, his shoulders rising and falling in jagged bursts.
Our eyes met across the room.
A challenge.
A promise.
And then he was on me.
Domino crashed into me, wild and untamed, a feverish blur of teeth and pain, fingers bruising, grip desperate, violent. His mouth burned against mine, claiming, consuming, devouring me—like leaving his marks on me was the only way to stay tethered, the only way to staunch the hunger clawing at his ribs.
His breath was hot against my throat, his fingers fisting in my shirt, dragging me closer, deeper. Harder.
“You’re mine,” he rasped, voice raw, wrecked. Unchained.
I arched into him, where he stood between my legs. My nails raked down his back, carving an answer into his skin, demanding more. “Then prove it.”
A broken groan ripped from my throat, raw and wrecked, swallowed by the heavy air between us. The glint of steel flickered in my periphery before the sharp kiss of Domino’s switchblade sliced through denim. The fabric fell away in tattered strips, pooling at my ankles.
Exposed. Open. His.
“Fuck, piccolo agnello, I need to fuck you.”
The need in his voice was tangible, thick and fevered, and God, I wanted to be ruined by it.
I answered without hesitation, bracing my hands behind me on the workbench as he hooked my legs over his arms, his grip branding, unrelenting. His fingers made quick work of his belt, the sharp clink of metal a wicked prelude. The slow, deliberate rasp of his zipper sent a shiver rolling through me—a countdown.
Three.
“Yes,” I breathed, hips canting forward in silent demand. “Fuck me.”
Two.
His cock pressed against me, the thick, swollen head teasing, taunting—denying.
The air reeked of copper and death, a heady perfume that sent adrenaline racing through my veins. My fingers curled against the workbench, nails carving half-moons into the splintered wood as a vicious snarl curled my lips.
“Stop teasing and fuck me.”
One.
Domino chuckled, low and sinful, the sound thrumming straight down my spine. My eyes snapped open just in time to catch the slow, deliberate drag of his blade across his wrist.
A violent tremor shuddered through me as his blood dripped hot and thick, trailing down my taint, pooling at the tip of his cock.
His gaze burned into mine, dark and feral. “Gonna fuck more than just my cum into you.” His voice was a wrecked rasp, his pupils blown wide. “I’m—” His words dissolved into a snarled growl as his hips snapped forward, spearing me open in one brutal thrust.
Pain and euphoria collided, white-hot and merciless, and I screamed, head snapping back, body bowing, breaking, surrendering.
His.
Always his.
In heaven, hell, and purgatory, until the world ended, I was his.
“Where are we going?” I asked as Domino tightened the helmet strap beneath my chin, his fingers precise and deliberate. His obsession with the damn thing made my eyes roll, and he caught the movement immediately.
A snort crackled through the helmet’s speaker. “Don’t be a brat.”
The Ninja rumbled to life beneath us, the deep vibration rolling through my bones as I slipped my arms around his waist.
“We’re going to get answers.” His voice was a low growl over the helmet’s intercom. “Then we’re going to end this.”
The weight of his words coiled in my gut, sharp and electric.
“Federico won’t go down without a fight,” he continued, voice edged with dark amusement. “And with most of his circle rotting in the ground, he’s running scared.”
I exhaled a laugh, my grip tightening around him. “I can’t wait to watch you break him.”
Domino didn’t respond, but I felt the shift in his body—the tension snapping taut like a wire ready to strangle. He wanted this. Needed this. His demons were already clawing their way to the surface, demanding carnage, and I was more than willing to help him tear Federico apart.
We pulled out of the underground garage, the sun glinting off the mirrored skyscrapers lining the center of Marlow Heights. The city gleamed like polished steel, a deceptive beauty masking the rot underneath.
A city on the edge of war.
The helmet’s speaker crackled as Domino spoke again. “A cornered animal is the most dangerous.”
His words lingered, a warning wrapped in cold certainty, but I welcomed the danger. Let Federico bare his teeth—I wanted to see his fear when he realized there was no escape, that he was about to meet his end.
“It’ll take us a couple of hours to get to the location Ghost sent me,” Domino said as we wove through traffic like a blade slicing through flesh.
“You trust him?”
Tension flickered through his frame, a barely-there hesitation, but I felt it like it was my own.
Since that morning in the apartment, Ghost had been walking on a knife’s edge. His access had been revoked, his loyalty questioned, but he’d kept working, kept proving himself. I’d spent hours trying to unravel the connection between Catalina, Salvatore, and Federico, only to hit a brick wall of erased records and dead ends.
That wasn’t possible in this day and age—unless someone wanted it to be.
The old families operated like they were still in Capone’s era, their power woven into the cracks of the city itself. The air in Marlow Heights had shifted, thick with impending bloodshed. People felt it, even if they didn’t understand it—the way they glanced over their shoulders, the way shadows stretched too long.
Hell was empty because all the devils were here. And soon, the streets would drown in blood.
I knew we would come out on top—we had to. But Federico had called his remaining guards back, stacking the numbers in his favor. Domino didn’t care. I’d seen him kill men twice his size with nothing but his hands.
He wasn’t just planning to kill Federico. He was going to rip apart his entire world, brick by fucking brick.
The city blurred as we broke through the limits, leaving the glass-and-steel skyline behind. The freeway opened before us, an endless stretch of asphalt leading straight to war.
Domino revved the engine once before launching us forward, the bike growling like a beast unleashed. A second later, static filled my helmet as the opening chords of Korn’s “Dead Bodies Everywhere” filled my ears.
I grinned despite myself. He wasn’t wrong.
We all knew how this would end.
By the time we pulled up to the black gates, my body ached from the ride, but the sight before me sent a slow ripple of pleasure through my veins. Tall, menacing, and reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers, the gates stood as the first warning—a barrier between the outside world and the monsters waiting within.
A thick brick wall stretched endlessly in either direction, swallowed by the towering trees that loomed like silent sentinels. But my attention was drawn upward—to the gleaming coils of barbed wire.
God, it was beautiful.
How would it look wrapped around flesh?
The sharp prongs would pierce so easily—soft skin surrendering to steel, beads of crimson welling up like tiny rubies, running in rivulets down trembling limbs. Would it sink deeper if I pulled harder? Could I embed it completely? Twist it into flesh until it became one with the body?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, my fingers twitched with phantom sensations.
A stunning addition to my collection.
I’d been experimenting with oils lately, testing how the diffusion of light could capture the depth of a wound, the way bruises bloomed like violets against pale skin. But nothing—nothing—could replicate the reality of it.
The textures. The smells. The heat of fresh blood coated my hands, thicker than paint and richer than any medium I’d ever worked with.
I knew the exact pressure required to carve flesh from bone. The force needed to break a man apart.
I craved it. Dreamed of it. Created it.
But it had been too long since Domino had gifted me someone to play with. Too long since I’d been allowed to perfect my work. Art required patience. Precision.
And lately, we’d had none to spare.
The gates groaned open, metal screaming on its hinges, welcoming us into the belly of the beast. We followed the winding driveway along a black river—dark and raging, its currents violent and unyielding.
The house emerged as we rounded the final turn. A behemoth of Colonial wealth and privilege.
It was elegant, sprawling over manicured grounds with a kind of effortless grace that only came with old money. White columns framed the front, standing tall like sentries, their smooth surfaces untouched by time. A second-story balcony wrapped around the facade, polished railing gleaming in the pale sunlight, a place meant for whiskey glasses and hushed conversations, not blood and screams.
Warm light spilled from the tall, symmetrical windows, glowing against rich, brick walls. The heavy oak doors weren’t foreboding like they should’ve been. They were grand. Inviting, even.
It was unsettling. A place meant to be lived in, not just inhabited.
Domino and I knew houses like this; we’d burned one to the ground. I just hoped they didn’t hold that against us. This house was different. It wasn’t just a display of wealth; it was a home. And that was the part neither of us could understand.
Salvatore stood at the bottom of the steps, watching our approach with calm indifference. No apprehension, no hesitation—just a man who already knew how this meeting would go. Arrogant. Calculated. Dangerous.
A second man stood beside him, tall and unreadable. My fingers twitched at my sides, instinct coiling in my gut.
Domino cut the engine, the roar of the bike fading into silence. I pulled off my helmet, blinking up at them in confusion before slipping off the bike and falling into step behind Domino.
Salvatore’s lips twitched at the corners, arms spreading in a gesture just shy of welcoming.
“Welcome to my home.” His voice was smooth, practiced. “Please, just leave this one standing.”
Domino growled low in his throat, the sound more animal than man. “If you hadn’t done what you did to us, we wouldn’t have had to.”
Salvatore sighed, brushing the nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “I apologize for the way Enzo handled everything. We didn’t know how... amenable you’d be.”
Domino arched a brow, his grip tightening around my waist as he pulled me into his side. Possessive. Territorial. I didn’t hate it. I fucking loved it.
“You could have asked to speak with me directly.” His words cut through the air, sharp and crackling like ice.
A quiet, rueful chuckle slipped past Salvatore’s lips. “I did. I sent many men to talk to you, but?—”
“No.” Domino’s voice snapped like a whip, slicing through whatever excuse Salvatore had prepared. “You or one of your sons sent men to disturb our business. They never tried anything other than to kill me or...” He shook his head, cutting himself off.
Silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Salvatore exhaled through his nose. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Even the house that’s still smoldering.” His tone was light, as if we weren’t discussing destruction and death. “I was on my way over to talk to you, but I guess locking you in a room wasn’t the right way to go about it.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Domino gritted out.
Salvatore gestured to the man beside him. “This is Alessio. He’ll be looking after us today. If you hand him your helmets and keys, he’ll see to your bike.” His gaze flickered to the sleek black machine, something like admiration flashing across his face. “She’s a beauty.”
Domino smirked. “That she is.”
We handed everything to Alessio and followed Salvatore inside, weaving through a bright hallway, a bustling kitchen, and out onto a sprawling terrace. The scent of freshly cut grass and expensive cologne clung to the air.
Seated around a large wooden table were Enzo, Luca, Diego, and Elio.
All conversation died the moment they saw us. Four pairs of eyes locked onto Domino, sizing him up like predators assessing a rival in their territory. They barely spared me a glance, their focus singular, as if I were nothing more than a shadow in Domino’s wake.
That was a mistake. I felt the smirk tug at my lips. I couldn’t wait to show them exactly what I was capable of.
Salvatore took his seat at the head of the table, motioning for us to sit. Domino didn’t move, his presence a solid wall of defiance.
He sighed. “Sit, Domino. We’re not your enemies.”
Domino held his stare for a beat longer before pulling out a chair and dropping into it. I slid in beside him, resting my arms on the table, fingers laced together.
The tension coiled tighter.
It was Luca who broke the silence. “So, why the hell are we all here?”
Salvatore leaned forward, elbows braced against the table. “Because there are things you all need to know.” His gaze swept over his sons before settling on Domino. “And because Domino has a proposition.”
Domino’s fingers tapped against the tabletop, measured and patient. “Before that, let’s clear the air.” His tone was flat, unreadable. “You wanted me dead. Then you didn’t. Then you locked me in a fucking room. What changed?”
Salvatore exhaled through his nose. “It’s time you know the truth about Catalina and me.”
The name hit like a bullet. Domino’s spine snapped straight, and tension coiled in his muscles. Latent power waiting to be unleashed. I slipped my hand onto his thigh and squeezed, a small act of comfort. A reminder he wasn’t alone in this.
Never again .
A shift rippled through the table. Diego’s jaw clenched, Enzo went utterly still, and Elio arched a single brow, curiosity flickering in his gaze.
Luca, however, laughed under his breath. “Christ. This should be good.”
Salvatore met their stares head-on. “Catalina was mine .”
The words rang like a death knell, a finality that sent a shiver through the air. Unshakable. Irrefutable.
Domino went utterly still.
Salvatore exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “After the boys’ mother died, I was lucky enough to fall in love again. Catalina was too good, too pure for our world. But the heart wants what it wants. Even if she was the sister of my enemy.” His voice turned raw at the edges, old wounds splitting open beneath the weight of the truth.
Domino’s fist curled against the table, knuckles whitening. “You expect me to believe that?”
Salvatore’s gaze darkened, something almost wounded flashing in his expression before it was buried beneath cold resolve. “Believe what you want. She thought our union could end the fighting between our families. But Federico has always been power-hungry and unwilling to work for it. He takes the easiest route—no matter the cost.”
Silence.
Luca huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “So, what? You expect us to just accept him?” He looked pointedly at Domino. “As one of us?”
Salvatore didn’t blink. “Yes.”
Luca was like a rabid dog with a bone, refusing to let it go. “After all the blood he’s spilled in the DeMarco name?”
Salvatore’s patience snapped, his voice a razor-edged snarl. “You don’t get a choice in this.” His jaw tensed, hands pressing flat against the table. “Domino is my son too, and I want him to be part of our family.”
Domino leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest, his expression blank—the storm in his eyes was anything but.
“That’s touching.” Domino’s voice was empty, hollowed out. “But we didn’t come here for a fucking love story.”
Salvatore swallowed whatever emotion flickered in his gaze, nodding once. “No. You came for the truth. And something else. You listen to what I have to say, then we’ll hear you out.”
A muscle ticked in Domino’s jaw. “Alright. But don’t leave anything out.”
“Thank you.” The tension in Salvatore’s shoulders eased, but it was fragile, a thread ready to snap.
His voice softened. “As I said, I fell in love with Catalina. Her laugh, the light in her dark green eyes... just like yours, son.” His gaze turned distant, lost in a memory. He cleared his throat, shaking himself free of the past. “I haven’t thought about her in years?—”
The table shook. Domino’s hand smashed down, glasses rattling from the impact. His breathing was heavy and ragged, something was breaking loose inside him.
I didn’t think about it. I just moved closer, shifting so our bodies touched from shoulder to thigh to ankle, a silent tether.
Elio tracked the movement, his eyes flickering with something like amusement—before his expression shut down entirely.
Salvatore swallowed, voice raw. “It’s been too painful to revisit the past…” He took a long sip of the golden liquid in his glass, as if it could burn away the words he didn’t want to say.
“We were planning to elope when Federico found out about us. Catalina tried to reason with him, but he refused to hear her. Said he didn’t want to be connected to us in any way and took her away from me.” His hand clenched into a fist. “I had men combing the country trying to find her, but it was like she’d vanished. For three months, she was a ghost haunting me every time I closed my eyes.” His voice cracked at the end, a deep wound left gaping open.
Domino’s voice was low, almost dangerous. “What did he do?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation of what he already knew.
Salvatore exhaled through his nose. “He held her hostage at his compound. At that time, I didn’t have anyone on the inside.” His fingers dug into the wooden table, the pain almost too much to voice.
“Catalina was too bright to be caged. She managed to escape using the tunnels leading off the property. She walked to the outskirts of Marlow Heights and caught a cab here.”
Salvatore lifted his gaze, the memory cutting through him. “When she arrived, she told me she was pregnant.”
Domino’s breath hitched, but he didn’t speak.
“I was overjoyed.” Salvatore’s voice was thick, his eyes glassy. “Nothing means more to me than family. To have another child… it was a blessing.”
Domino let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Federico has always treated me like a curse.”
Salvatore’s jaw clenched. “No. A weapon.”
Domino’s fingers curled into his palm, but he nodded.
Salvatore pressed on. “She spent a week here. She was so excited. A doctor came, and he confirmed she was about five months along. He did a scan…” His throat worked as he swallowed, his next words barely a whisper. “She was convinced she could reason with Federico. That you being a boy would change his perspective.”
I shook my head. “She was wrong, wasn’t she?” It wasn’t a question.
Salvatore’s expression shattered. “It changed things in ways she never expected.”
He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, his grief raw and unpolished.
“She went back with Angelo—he volunteered to go undercover with the DeMarcos. He was meant to protect her. But all he did was scheme and plot,” he choked.
“Federico kept her locked in her room the entire pregnancy,” Enzo picked up when Salvatore couldn’t. “Angelo worked to gain Federico’s trust?—”
Domino let out a cold laugh. “He did that. Always thought he was a snake.”
Enzo’s expression darkened. “To you, yes. I know everything you’ve done to him over the years, Domino.”
Domino’s eyes flashed. “Nothing the fucker didn’t deserve.”
Salvatore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Catalina had the baby, and Angelo did his job. He got Federico away long enough for her to run. But…”
My chest tightened. “You didn’t know what he’d done to her car.”
Salvatore exhaled sharply. “No. Not until it was too late.”
His voice shook. “Angelo was supposed to be with her, but Federico called, saying he’d be back in a few hours. So he changed the plan. Sent her ahead.”
Domino’s voice was ice. “So what you’re saying is I should kill him for his incompetence?”
Salvatore shot him a sharp look. “No. Angelo did what he had to do to maintain his cover.” He took a shaky breath. “He was the first to arrive at the wreckage. He called me from the scene. Confirmed what happened. My heart shattered.”
The air was suffocating. The cool breeze blowing across my face did nothing to alleviate the growing tightness in my chest.
“I asked him to bring you to me. But by the time the call ended… Federico was there.”
A single tear slipped down Salvatore’s cheek, and he didn’t bother wiping it away. “He took you. And threatened to kill anyone who revealed the truth.”
Domino’s hands were shaking. “So he killed his sister and raised me as his own for what?”
Salvatore sighed, his voice filled with regret. “I think he believed he could use you against me. That I’d give up everything to get you back.” He swallowed hard. “I had no idea what he would do to you.”
“How do you know?” Domino’s chest rose and fell heavily.
Salvatore’s voice cracked. “Domino… Angelo told me everything.”
A silence stretched between them, unspoken pain bleeding into the air.
Domino turned to me, his dark green eyes eclipsed by shadows. “I nearly killed Remi the night two of your men attacked us—just for telling me the truth.” His voice was low, rough, scraping against the heavy silence. “What he found out about the crash, with Ghost’s help… He almost lost his life, too.”
A flicker of something crossed his face—pain, regret, fury—but he buried it just as fast, locking it down beneath the cold mask he always wore. He tipped his head back, eyes slipping shut like he was trying to wrestle down the ghosts clawing at his mind. Around us, the Gallos murmured in hushed voices, letting the weight of the moment settle.
Without a word, I reached into his back pocket, pulled out his silver cigarette tin, lit one, and passed it to him. He took it automatically, like some part of him always knew I was there.
“Thanks,” he muttered, barely audible.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I lit my own. Smoke curled between us, drifting in the night air, a temporary veil between the war in our minds and the one we were about to wage. My gaze flicked across the table, meeting Elio’s for a brief moment. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment—a quiet thank you for what we’d done. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips before it vanished like it had never been there at all.
The hush thickened. Alessio arrived, replenishing drinks, setting a tumbler in front of Domino and me. A plate of pastries and sandwiches landed in the center of the table, but no one moved for them except the Gallos. We didn’t have the appetite for anything but revenge.
Salvatore’s voice broke the quiet. “What else did you want to discuss, Domino?”
“I want your help taking down Federico.” Domino’s smirk was as sharp as a blade.
Diego, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. “You think we’re just going to join forces with you?”
Domino tilted his head, a predator studying his prey. “I think you want him dead just as much as I do.”
The air tightened, tension coiling between us like a live wire. The Gallos sat still, unreadable, their expressions betraying nothing. But I knew—deep down, they were considering it. They all had their reasons.
Salvatore sighed, rubbing his temple before turning his gaze to me. “Remi.”
At once, every eye landed on me. I shifted, the weight of their attention pressing against my skin. I was used to being in the background, unseen, unnoticed. I was the ghost lurking in the shadows, the one who gathered information, who dismantled enemies from the inside out. But not tonight.
I leaned forward, setting a folder on the table with a deliberate motion. “This is what we have so far.” I flipped it open, revealing a roadmap to war—documents, surveillance reports, photographs of Federico’s crumbling empire.
“With or without you, we’re taking him down,” I said, voice smooth, controlled. “Federico has lost more than half his men. He’s backed into a corner, and that makes him desperate. He’s not going to roll over.”
I glanced at Domino before continuing.
“We’ve drained his accounts. His businesses are either collapsing or buried under legal red tape. We’ve cut off his allies, flipped his business partners. His clubs, his casinos, his construction sites—they’re shutting down, one by one. His men?” A dark smile played on my lips. “They’re running. And we’re hunting them down.”
The Gallos listened, silent. We’d already made our move. The only question was whether they’d stand with us or against us.
Domino took over, his voice steady, deliberate. He laid out the next steps, the weak points we’d identified, the places Federico would try to hold. His mercenaries inflated his numbers, but they had no loyalty. They fought for money, not for him.
“If anyone captures Federico,” Domino said, his voice like steel, “he’s ours. If anyone takes his life, even by accident—we take theirs.”
A beat of silence.
Salvatore exhaled slowly and leaned back. His gaze moved over his sons—Enzo, Luca, Diego, Elio—measuring them. Weighing their unspoken decision.
“Well,” he said finally, voice laced with something dark and final. “If everyone agrees, we’re in.” His eyes glinted with cold fury. “It’s high time I made him hurt the same way he hurt me.”
The war had already begun. Now, it was just a matter of how long Federico could run before we caught him.