Chapter 24
DANTE
The war room in the basement of our Manhattan estate has never felt smaller.
Gabriel spreads a hand-drawn map of the O'Connor compound across the heavy oak table, his fingers tracing the perimeter walls with the precision of a surgeon planning an incision.
Luca leans against the wall to my right, cleaning his gun with methodical efficiency—his way of staying calm when everything inside him wants to burn the world down.
And I stand at the head of the table, staring at the layout of the place where my pregnant wife's sister is being held hostage by a man who has already murdered one person she loves.
Patrick Murphy will die tonight.
The only question is how much of the Irish mafia dies with him.
"The compound has twenty-three men on rotation," Gabriel says, tapping various points on the map with a pencil.
"Patrick dismissed most of Seamus's old guard after he took over—said they were too loyal to the old ways, too soft.
He brought in his own crew. Mercenaries, mostly.
Men with no connection to the O'Connor legacy. "
"Which means they will fight," Luca observes, sliding the magazine back into his weapon with a decisive click. "No loyalty means no reason to surrender when we come knocking."
"They will fight," I agree, my eyes tracking the defensive positions Gabriel has marked. "But they will also die. The question is whether we can get to Erin before Patrick decides she is more useful as a corpse than a hostage."
The words taste like ash. Rosalina is upstairs in our bedroom, sedated by the doctor I called after she collapsed from exhaustion and grief.
She cried herself unconscious in my arms, her hands clutching Seamus's birth certificate like it was the only thing tethering her to this world.
The birth certificate that named her Rosalina Margaret O'Connor—daughter, not ward.
Seamus's final gift to her was proof that she belonged.
And Patrick murdered him.
My hand curls into a fist on the table, and Gabriel glances up at me, reading my expression with the ease of someone who has known me since childhood.
"We will get her," he says quietly. "Erin. We will bring her home to Rosalina."
"And Patrick?" Luca asks, his voice carrying an edge that could cut glass.
I meet his eyes, let him see the cold, lethal certainty settling into my bones. "Patrick does not leave that compound breathing."
The phone on the wall rings—a sharp, jarring sound in the tense silence. I cross the room in three strides and lift the receiver.
"Salvatore."
"Dante, it is Callahan." The voice on the other end is rough, aged, carrying the weight of decades in the Irish organization. Thomas Callahan—Seamus's oldest friend, his most trusted lieutenant, and the man who was like an uncle to both Rosalina and Erin.
"Callahan," I acknowledge, my mind already racing. "I was going to call you."
"I imagine you were." There is a pause, filled with the kind of grief that has no words. "I can’t believe what Patrick has done. Murdering Seamus, killing Dolan, holding Erin prisoner.t is an abomination. A betrayal of everything the O'Connor family stood for."
"He’s a man who must be avenged." I say.
"Then we are on the same page ," Callahan says, and the steel in his voice makes feels akin to the loyalty I feel for Luca and Gabriel.
. ". Patrick has a dozen men who are loyal to him—mercenaries and opportunists.
But there are eight of us left who served Seamus for twenty years.
We have been waiting for someone to make a move against Patrick. "
Eight men. Eight experienced Irish officers who know the compound inside and out, who have access Patrick would never suspect.
"Can you get to Erin?" I ask.
"Not without triggering an alarm. Patrick has her in the east wing, third floor.
Two guards on her door at all times, another two patrolling the hallway.
He is paranoid, rightfully so. He knows that if Erin dies, the entire Irish organization will turn on him—there are still too many people who loved Seamus to tolerate his daughter's murder.
She is leverage, but she is also his insurance policy. "
"Then we need to make him feel safe enough to move her," Gabriel says, appearing at my shoulder. He must have heard the conversation through the receiver. "Give him a reason to relocate her to a less secure position."
Callahan is silent for a moment, thinking.
Then: "There is a delivery scheduled for eleven tonight.
Weapons shipment coming in from Boston. Patrick will want to be at the docks to receive it personally—he does not trust anyone else with that kind of inventory.
If we can make him believe there is a threat to the shipment, he might move Erin to the safe room in the basement.
Easier to defend, only two entry points. "
"But also easier for us to extract her from," Gabriel adds, his tactical mind already working through the possibilities. "The basement connects to the old tunnel system Seamus built during Prohibition. Those tunnels run under half of Brooklyn."
"And open up three blocks from the compound," Callahan confirms. "If you can get into the basement, you can get Erin out without ever going through the main house."
I glance at Gabriel, see him already mapping the approach in his head. Then I look at Luca, who has pushed off the wall and moved closer, his expression sharp and focused.
"What do you need from us?" I ask Callahan.
"Create chaos at the docks. Make it messy enough that Patrick has to respond, but not so destructive that we lose the weapons—I will need those to consolidate power after Patrick is gone.
And give me one hour after he leaves the compound.
That is how long it will take me to get Erin to the basement and signal you that she is ready for extraction. "
"You will have your chaos," I promise. "And Callahan? When this is over, the Irish will need a new leader. Someone who understands loyalty and honor. Someone Seamus trusted."
"Are you offering me the position?"
"I am offering you the alliance Seamus wanted when he arranged the marriage between his daughter and my family.
A partnership between the Irish and the Italians that benefits both.
With you in charge of the Irish and Erin as your heir—protected by the Salvatore name—we can build something stronger than what existed before. "
Another pause. Then: "Seamus would have liked that."
"Then we have an understanding."
"We do. I will wait for your signal. And Dante?
" Callahan's voice softens, just slightly.
"Tell Rosalina that her father loved her.
That he talked about her every day after she left for your compound.
That the birth certificate was not a last-minute gesture—he filed the paperwork the day after he adopted her.
She has always been his daughter. He just wanted to make sure no one could ever question it. "
My throat tightens. "I will tell her."
I hang up the phone and turn back to Gabriel and Luca, who are both watching me with expectation.
"Callahan is in," I say simply. "We have inside help. Eight men loyal to Seamus who are ready to move against Patrick."
"That evens the odds considerably," Gabriel says, already adjusting his calculations. "Twenty-three minus eight leaves fifteen men actively loyal to Patrick. Plus Patrick himself. Sixteen total."
"Against three of us, eight of Callahan's men, and whoever else we can mobilize from our own ranks," Luca adds. "I like those numbers."
"We are not mobilizing our full force," I say, shaking my head. "My father cannot know about this. If Giovanni finds out we are attacking the Irish compound, he will either try to stop us or try to take control of the operation. Both options end badly."
"So it is just us," Gabriel confirms. "The three of us, and whatever support Callahan can provide."
"Just us," I agree. "Which means we need to be smart about this. Gabriel, you are on tactics. I want a plan that gets us in and out with Erin alive and Patrick dead. Luca, you are on the docks. Create enough chaos to draw Patrick out, but do not destroy the shipment."
"How much chaos are we talking?" Luca asks, and there is a gleam in his eyes that suggests he has some ideas already.
"Enough that Patrick has to leave the compound to deal with it personally. A fire, maybe. Or make it look like someone is trying to steal the weapons. Use your imagination."
"My favorite words," Luca says with a grin that does not quite reach his eyes.
The levity is forced, a mask over the cold fury we all feel.
Dolan was Luca's friend too. They trained together, drank together, got into trouble together when they were younger and stupider. His death is personal for all of us.
Gabriel pulls out a second map—this one showing the tunnel system beneath Brooklyn.
"The entrance closest to us is here," he says, marking a spot with his pencil.
"An old speakeasy that the O'Connors maintained as an emergency exit.
When the alliance was formed, I made it a point to get the access codes and memorize the tunnel routes—standard security protocol for allied territories.
I can get us in, navigate to the compound's basement, and extract Erin once Callahan has her in position. "
"Time frame?" I ask, my eyes still fixed on the map spread across the table.
"From the moment Patrick leaves for the docks, we have approximately thirty minutes before he realizes it is a diversion and comes back,” Gabriel says, tracing the route with his finger.
"Callahan needs sixty of those minutes to move Erin and secure the basement.
That gives us thirty minutes to get in, get her, and get out. "
"Tight," Luca observe, rolling his jaw.
"Very," Gabriel agrees, eyes glued to the map."Which is why we need to go tonight. Right now. Before Patrick decides Erin is too much trouble to keep alive."