ALESSIO
The next day…
The elevator climbs toward the conference floor. I stare at my reflection in the brushed steel doors. Over the past few days I dismantled a trafficking empire. Executed the woman who gave birth to me. Discovered I had a brother.
None of it lingers.
Beccs does.
She held herself together on the drive to the airport.
Walked us through everything Rachel had shared, piecing together parts of the puzzle we'd been missing.
She even managed a smile when Olivere said something stupid.
She boarded the jet without a word. Pretended she was fine.
For exactly five minutes. Then she curled against my side and cried herself to sleep.
All because of Rachel. I clench my jaw. What a fucking selfish bitch.
Whatever reasons she has... whatever ghosts she's running from... she looked her own sister in the eye and asked her to pretend she'd died. Beccs spent years looking for her. Rachel couldn't spare ten minutes.
If she were anyone else... I'd have already solved the problem. Permanently.
Instead... I can't forget that even after everything, she's Beccs' sister. The only family she has left. Untouchable. I hate that.
Rachel doesn't deserve my mercy. But hurting Rachel would hurt Beccs, and that's the last thing I want.
For the first time in a long time... there isn't a damn thing I can fix.
No one to threaten. No one to shoot. No amount of money to throw at it.
All I can do... is be there when she wakes up crying.
The elevator dings. The doors slide open. I put my capo face back in place. Massimo, Enzo, and Gabe are waiting.
One chair still sits empty: Damiano's.
“No sign of Sleeping Beauty?”
“Not since yesterday morning.” Gabe pulls out his phone.
“And?”
“He said he was handling something.”
Enzo snorts. “That’s practically a cry for help coming from him.”
No one laughs.
I pull out my own phone and call him. Straight to voicemail.
“That’s not like him.”
“No,” Massimo says. His expression doesn’t change, but something hardens behind his eyes.
I lower my phone. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“The Collector claimed he had Nicci and Damiano’s son,” Massimo says. “Damiano took off before we could confirm it. Yesterday, he told Gabe and me he was handling it and to stay out.”
“And you listened?”
“For now.” Massimo folds his hands on the table. His voice turns cold. “I’m not ignoring it. I’ll fill you in when I have something solid. Until then, we deal with the fire in front of us.”
Gabe tosses a folder onto the polished wood. “We had a few people decide Cesar’s money looked prettier than ours.”
Enzo smirks. “They changed employers.”
“They changed zip codes,” Gabe adds.
Enzo doesn't miss a beat. "They changed breathing privileges."
Nobody laughs. Gabe turns to me. "Sorry. You lost four dealers."
My, those two have been busy cleaning. And Cesar has been busy trying to undermine us.
I shrug. "No hard feelings. They made their choice."
I lean back and let a grin spread my lips. "I'll lure a few of yours over to the Consulate."
Enzo raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I pay better."
He flips me off. "Asshole."
Massimo shakes his head. "Children."
The room relaxes for exactly three seconds. Then business returns. Massimo looks at me. "Your turn."
I slide Flea's ledgers onto the table. "The trafficking network is finished." Nobody interrupts. "Luciana's dead. The auctions are over. For now. Somebody will fill the gap, but that will take a while. In the meantime, the buyers are exposed, and the girls are safe."
I glance around the room. "Cesar just lost the infrastructure that took him years to build. He'll spend months trying to replace it. If he even can."
Gabe offers. "So we've bought ourselves time."
"Exactly," I agree.
"He'll be rebuilding," Enzo warns.
"We'll be hunting," Massimo predicts, then gestures for me to continue. "Flea."
That gets everyone's attention. "He wasn't working for Luciana. He was dismantling her."
Enzo leans forward. "Sounds like a story."
"It was… enlightening," I agree, and fill them in. "Beccs and I flew to Phoenix yesterday, and Beccs had a word with her sister."
I fill them in on what Rachel finally told us. When I'm done, Massimo gets up and hands us glasses with Stagg.
"Tell Beccs thank you. That couldn't have been easy," he tells me when he hands me mine.
I'm not sure it'll help Beccs, but I do appreciate Massimo's concern for her, and so will she.
Enzo brings up the first question. "So Flea knew?"
I nod. "He must have followed Rachel's observation and discovered Luciana was his biological mother."
"How?" Gabe asks.
"He started digging." I fill them in about the Reaper tradition. "He learned how the Reapers punished adultery. They cut part of the earlobe off the woman who cheated, the man she cheated with, and the child, if one was created."
"He realized Luciana wasn't just another trafficker," Massimo adds. "She was his mother."
"And?" Gabe fishes.
"He reacted about the way I did." I grin. Only I killed the bitch. He was going to destroy her empire. "He wanted to destroy everything she'd built."
Massimo folds his hands. "From the inside."
"Exactly." I nod. "He'd spent years climbing through the Reapers. Earning trust. Moving guns. Moving women. He knew how the machine worked because he was the head who kept it running."
Enzo grimaces. "So, Rachel asking about his ear… set a chain reaction in motion."
"One question. That's all it took." I nod. "I think Rachel was the turning point. He rescued her. Then another. And another. He started hunting buyers. Forging identities. Keeping records. Killing anyone he decided deserved it."
Gabe leans back. "And enjoyed it. So does that make him a hero?"
I snort. "No. He transported women long before he freed them. He worked for Luciana. For Cesar by extension. He made them money. I don't know how much." I don't have any feelings for the man who was my half-brother. "He had blood on his hands."
Enzo agrees slowly. "But he also saved a hell of a lot of lives."
"Probably." I give him that. "I don't know why. Revenge. Guilt. Rachel. Maybe all three. Maybe none. Maybe it just made him feel better?" I shrug. "He took the answer with him."
Massimo studies me. "So what do you think?"
I think about it for a second. Then shake my head. "I don't."
Three confused looks follow that statement. "I don't waste time deciding whether dead men deserve redemption. He wasn't innocent. He wasn't evil incarnate either. He died somewhere between the two."
Silence. It's Gabe who finally nods. "Fair."
I lean forward. "What matters now... is the women whose names are still in those ledgers." I look at Massimo. "I've assigned people to every unfinished file. If Flea didn't get to them... I will."
Massimo gives one sharp nod. "Good."
Alright. I wait for a moment. When nobody else says anything, and Damiano still hasn't shown up, I slide another stack across the table. Cream-colored envelopes. Black wax seal.
Enzo eyes them suspiciously. "What the hell is this?"
"My wedding invitations."
Enzo barks out a laugh. "About time."
I sigh. "Beccs insisted. So congratulations. You assholes are all officially invited."
Gabe opens his envelope. "I can't believe she's willing to marry you. Does she know what she's in for?"
"Me neither." Enzo grins.
"Haha," I shoot right back. "Did Audra?"
Gabe laughs, and somehow, this is the first real conversation we've had in days.
The moment, however, doesn't last long. My phone vibrates. Unknown Number. Massimo's rings at the exact same time. Then Gabe's. Then Enzo's.
Massimo turns ice cold. "Answer it."
The second we do, laughter fills the room. Not loud. Not manic. Just... amused.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Cesar.
My blood turns to ice.
"I thought you'd appreciate a little entertainment."
Every television in the conference room flickers. Black before it turns to a live, crystal-clear feed. This stream doesn't come from a security camera. It's from someone's phone.
Someone standing only a few yards away. Watching. Filming.
The view is of a deserted stretch of asphalt on the outskirts of Vegas. An abandoned industrial lot. The afternoon sun hangs low enough to cast long shadows. Damiano stands alone.
Across from him... Nicci.
My heartbeat slows.
"Ah, hell..." Gabe breathes.
They seem to be arguing. I can't hear the exact words, only muffled voices, filled with emotion.
"Stop this." Massimo's voice is deadly calm. "You've made your point."
"Oh, Massimo..." Cesar sighs. "I haven't even gotten to the interesting part."
On the screen...
Damiano takes one slow step toward Nicci. She backs away. Shaking her head. He says something. She answers. Damiano smiles at her, not his usual cocky grin that makes women fall to their knees around him. This one is honest. True. Like he's trying to calm her.
My stomach twists. Something about this... doesn't feel right.
He takes another step. From out of nowhere, she raises a gun.
"No," Enzo's voice is barely a whisper. "Damiano..."
He doesn't stop. Why the fuck isn't he stopping? He reaches toward her. Like he's trying to take the gun. Or touch her face. I can't tell.
Boom. The sound of the shot echoes through all our phones. Damiano jerks violently. The bullet slams square into the center of his chest. He hits the pavement hard. And… doesn't move.
None of us is even breathing. Whoever's holding the phone starts walking. Each step brings Damiano's body closer. My pulse pounds in my ears.
"Get up," I order.
"No!" Massimo roars.
His chair rockets backward, crashing into the wall as he surges to his feet. Gabe is up and circling the conference table, like he can somehow reach through the screen.
"Damiano!" Enzo slams a fist onto the polished wood. "Get the fuck up!"
I don't even realize I've taken a step toward the television until I'm standing inches from it. Get up. Get the fuck up. Every instinct in my body screams that this isn't over. That Damiano's going to roll, fire back, do... something. Anything.
This is Damiano, not some schmuck off the street. My pulse pounds against my ribs hard enough to hurt.
"Come on..." I mutter. "Get the fuck up."
He's been shot before. Fuck, we've all been shot before. Chest wounds aren't always fatal.
Get up.
Please...
Get the fuck up.
The phone stops barely six feet away. Close enough that I can make out Damiano's lifeless body.
Nicci enters the frame. No panic. No tears.
No hesitation. She walks toward him with the same measured stride she might use entering a restaurant.
She kneels beside him. Presses two fingers against the side of his neck. Waits.
Then shifts her hand. One palm settles against the center of his chest. Watching. Feeling. Measuring. Another long second passes. Finally... she looks directly into the camera. Expressionless.
"He's dead." Not a crack in her voice. Not an ounce of emotion. Just fact.
Behind the camera, a man's voice answers.
"You sure?"
She doesn't even glance back at Damiano.
"I'm sure."
She rises. Straightens her jacket. Without another look... she walks away. The cameraman steps closer. So close the screen fills with Damiano's face. His eyes stare sightlessly toward the sky. Blood stains the front of his shirt. The camera lowers. Lingers on the wound.
Then a gloved boot nudges his shoulder. No response. The cameraman chuckles.
"He ain't breathing, boss."
Cesar laughs. Satisfied. "Told you she'd choose correctly."
The screen goes black.
The silence in the conference room is somehow louder than the gunshot. Massimo doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Then...
His hand closes around the edge of the conference table.
The marble groans. Cracks. He rips a chunk clean out of it. "Find." His voice is almost too quiet to hear. "Him."
Nobody asks who. Nobody needs to. His eyes lift. Cold. Empty. Murderous.
"I don't care if you have to burn every safe house, every warehouse, every fucking inch of Nevada." He points at the black screen. "I want Cesar." Another heartbeat. "And I want that bitch. Nicci."
His fist slams into the desk so hard, the wood groans. “And I want to know where this happened. I want Damiano’s body brought here for a proper funeral.”
He looks at each of us in turn. "If Damiano is really dead..." His jaw flexes. "They’ll die wishing they’d died as quickly as our brother.”