Chapter 37 Carmela
CARMELA
Ipace the office floor, checking my watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. Silvo should have been back two hours ago. The call came just after lunch—one of our shipments from Atlantic City had been hit. Three men were wounded, and cargo was stolen.
My stomach twists into knots. We’re barely a week into this fragile truce with the Morettis, coordinating our defenses against Tartarov. But someone hit us anyway—and they knew exactly when and where to strike.
The door flies open, and Silvo strides in with Fed close behind. His face is granite, jaw tight, but his eyes soften momentarily when they land on me.
“What happened?” I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.
Silvo throws his jacket onto the chair. “Ambush at the county line. Professional job. They knew exactly when the trucks would arrive and the route they’d take.”
“Tartarov,” I say, my heart sinking.
“Yeah.” Fed pulls out his phone and shows me photos of shell casings.
“Same Russian ammunition. Same red scorpion tattoos on two of the attackers we managed to corner.” He swipes to another image.
“But here’s the problem—this route was only finalized and shared with our inner circle and the Morettis’ coordination team two days ago. ”
My blood runs cold. “You think the leak is from the Morettis?”
“Or from us,” Silvo says grimly, sinking into the chair behind his desk. “Someone on one of our teams is feeding Tartarov real-time intelligence about our coordinated operations.”
I perch on the edge of the desk, the implications hitting me like a physical blow. “If we accuse the Morettis of having a leak—”
“The truce collapses,” Fed finishes. “We’re back to killing each other while Tartarov picks us apart.”
“But if we don’t tell them about this attack...” I trail off, imagining the scenario.
Silvo nods, his jaw tight. “Nico hears through the grapevine that we got hit and didn’t inform him immediately. He thinks we’re keeping secrets, doubting the alliance.”
“Or worse,” I add, my mind racing ahead, “Tartarov hits one of their operations next, and the Morettis think we did it to retaliate for this.”
Fed looks between us. “So what’s the play? We can’t keep this quiet, but we also can’t point fingers without proof of where the leak is.”
Silvo runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “We need to tell Nico about this attack before rumors spread. But we need to do it carefully—present it as an issue we’re solving together, not an accusation.”
“Agreed,” I say. “The leak could be anywhere. One of our guys, one of theirs, or someone neither family has identified yet as compromised.”
While Fed makes the call to Marco, I pull up my own phone, scrolling to a conversation I’ve kept hidden from Silvo. My heart pounds as I make a split-second decision. Valeria’s last message from this morning stares back at me.
Dad’s on edge. Says something feels wrong but can’t put his finger on it. How are things on your end?
I’d responded vaguely, not wanting to alarm her before we knew more. Now I realize she might be our fastest path to Nico.
“There might be a faster way to get this information to Nico,” I say quietly.
The room goes quiet. Silvo’s eyes narrow. “What are you thinking?”
I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I... I have a direct line to the Moretti family.”
“What?” Silvo’s voice drops dangerously low.
I pull up my messages, my thumb trembling slightly. “Valeria Moretti. We exchanged numbers after meeting at that boutique in Rittenhouse Square a few weeks ago.”
Silvo’s jaw tightens. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“It started as just... two women trying to understand each other across enemy lines,” I explain, standing my ground despite the guilt churning in my stomach.
“Then it became a way to gauge the Morettis’ temperature without official channels.
I wasn’t hiding it—I just hadn’t found the right moment to tell you. ”
Fed whistles low. “Well, that’s certainly convenient timing.”
“It’s more than convenient,” Isabella adds, moving to stand beside me. “It’s exactly what we need right now. An unofficial channel that won’t trigger alarm bells on either side.”
I face Silvo directly. “I know I should have told you sooner. But right now, people’s lives are at stake. Both our families are being played, and this could be our fastest way to get Nico to understand what’s happening before Tartarov drives another wedge between us.”
Silvo stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he extends his hand. “Show me.”
I unlock my phone and hand it to him. He scrolls through my conversations with Valeria—careful discussions about art and college life mixed with subtle references to our families’ situations, hopes for peace, fears about the future.
“You’ve been talking about peace this whole time,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice.
“We both want the same thing,” I say quietly. “A future without looking over our shoulders. Without worrying about which one of us won’t come home at night. Valeria understands that better than most—she lost her mother when she was two. She doesn’t want to lose her father to this vendetta too.”
Silvo hands my phone back, and something shifts in his expression. “Make the call.”
I stare at him, stunned. “You’re not mad?”
His jaw tightens, but his eyes hold understanding rather than rage.
“I don’t have the luxury of anger right now.
This is bigger than us—bigger than our families’ history.
” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“And honestly? I’m impressed. You saw an opportunity to build a bridge, and you took it.
That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need right now. ”
I’d prepared for shouting, for accusations of betrayal. His measured response catches me completely off guard.
“I was sure you’d...” I trail off, my prepared defenses suddenly unnecessary.
“Explode?” Silvo’s mouth quirks into a half-smile.
“Believe me, I want to. But you’ve proven something to me these past weeks, Carmela.
” He gestures at the evidence we’ve gathered.
“You’re thinking like a De Luca. Not just by name, but by choice.
You saw a strategic advantage, and you cultivated it. ”
Fed clears his throat. “Much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, we’re running out of time. If the Tartarovs hit another Moretti property tonight—”
“I know,” I say, already dialing Valeria’s number. My heart pounds against my ribs as I put the phone on speaker. Three rings, then her voice fills the room.
“Carmela? Is everything okay?”
I take a deep breath. “No, it’s not. We need to talk—all of us. The De Lucas and the Morettis. It’s urgent.”
A pause. “This sounds serious.”
“It is. We were just hit—Atlantic City shipment. Three men were wounded. But here’s the thing, Val—the attackers knew details that were only shared between our coordinated teams two days ago.”
Valeria’s sharp intake of breath is audible. “You think there’s a leak.”
“We know there’s a leak. We just don’t know which family it’s in.” I glance at Silvo, who nods encouragingly. “We need to meet tonight. Compare intelligence, figure out who’s compromised before Tartarov uses this to destroy the truce.”
Another pause, longer this time. When Valeria speaks again, her voice is steady but urgent. “I’ll talk to my father. He needs to hear this directly from you and Silvo.”
Silvo leans closer to the phone. “This is Silvo De Luca. Can you get us the meeting?”
“I’ll make it happen,” Valeria promises. “Where and when?”
I look at Silvo, who mouths “The boathouse.”
“The neutral property on the river,” I tell her. “In two hours. Just your father, Maximo, you, and whoever else he trusts completely. We can’t risk this information getting to whoever’s feeding Tartarov.”
“Understood. We’ll be there.” Valeria hesitates. “Carmela? Thank you. For trusting me with this.”
“We’re in this together now,” I say softly. “All of us.”
The line goes dead. I look up at Silvo, Isabella, and Fed, the weight of what we’re about to do settling over us all.
Isabella squeezes my shoulder. “That took guts. Admitting to Silvo about Valeria, then using that connection to potentially save the alliance.”
“It was the right call,” Silvo says firmly. He pulls me into his arms, his chin resting on top of my head. “You see things the rest of us miss, Carmela. Connections, possibilities. It’s why you’re so valuable to this family—to me.”
Fed grins, some of his usual lightness returning. “Plus, having a secret backchannel to the Morettis is pretty badass. Very spy novel.”
“This isn’t a game, Fed,” I say, but I can’t help the small smile.
“I know.” His expression sobers. “But if this works—if we can identify the leak and plug it before Tartarov tears apart the alliance—we might actually have a shot at lasting peace.”
Silvo releases me, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with mine. “Let’s get ready. We have two hours to prepare a presentation that convinces Nico we’re not trying to blame him while also making it clear we have a serious security problem.”
As we gather the evidence and prepare for the meeting, I catch Silvo watching me with something like pride in his eyes.
For the first time since being forced into this marriage, I don’t feel like an outsider trying to survive in his world. I feel like exactly what he called me—a De Luca by choice, not just by name.