Chapter 5 First Person POV (Lilianna)

The man's breathing quickened; his eyes darted back and forth between Matteo and me. Beads of sweat fell down his temple, his face pale, stretched tightly with fear. I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, weighing the chances of survival if he spoke versus if he said nothing.

One step closer and his big frame cast a long shadow across the man. In his hand, the glint of the knife gleamed bright, reflecting the poor light of the basement. He didn't have to say anything because his being there was the threat.

"One last chance," Matteo said in an even voice, the tone deadlier than the real weapon. "Tell me who ordered the attack.

The man swayed; his lips trembled. I inched a bit closer, my voice dropping to a whisper, though amply weighted.

"Consider it," I said. "Those people you're trying to protect? They don't care about you. When they hear you've been captured, they'll assume you've already talked. Matteo here might be the only chance you have of making it out alive.".

His wild desperate eyes flickered on me. I could literally see the cracks beginning to form in his determination, fear overtaking whatever loyalty he had left.

"Alright!" he burst with a shaking voice. "I'll talk. Just… just don't kill me."

Matteo didn't change expression, but he did take an ostensible step backward, giving space for him to speak.

"It was Petrov," the man stammered. "Vlad Petrov. He ordered the hit."

The name was like a twist to my stomach. Vlad Petrov was the head of the Russian mob in New York, and a man whose name alone sent chills running down one's spine.

"Why?" Matteo asked incisively.

He swallowed hard, his gaze doing a sweep of the room as if searching for an escape. "It was about the wedding… and the deals. Your families reneged on agreements with the Russians. They took the wedding as a slight. A… a power play.

Matteo's teeth clenched, his hand tightening on the blade. "And what of Lilianna?" he growled low. "Why did they come after her?"

The man hesitated again; his face twisted with fear. "She's the last of the Genovese," he finally said. "Petrov wants to erase the entire family line. He wants the territory.

It was as though he'd uttered those words, and they slammed into me like a freight train. My family hadn't been some kind of collateral damage; they'd been the target. And now, so was I.

He had turned away from the man now; his movements were measured and controlled, yet I could see that his shoulders were stretched taut, and there was a fury simmering just below the surface, barely contained.

"Vous avez été très utile", said Matteo without turning back.

Relief crossed his features for a second or two. Matteo nodded towards one of his men and, in the blink of an eye, he was dragged from the room, his protests still echoing down the hall.

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice even despite the storm inside me.

Matteo just barely lifted an eyebrow. "That's none of your concern.

It is, too, I snarled, closing the distance between us with every step. You think I'm going to sit back and let you decide who lives and dies?

His eyes didn't release mine, dark, unyielding. This isn't Italy, Lilianna. This is my world. And in my world, loose ends don't get to walk away.

I had wanted to argue, to tell him that there must be another way, but somewhere inside I knew how right he was. The rules here were different. Ruthless.

"So, what now?" I folded my arms across my chest.

"Now we plan," Matteo said. Firm. "Petrov made the first move, but he won't stop until he gets what he wants. We need to hit back, hard and fast."

I nodded and felt fire flare to life once more within my chest. "I'm in".

His eyes gentled for a bare instant, something quick and illegible darting across his eyes. "You don't have to do this, Lilianna".

"Yes, I do," I said, firm. "This is my family, Matteo. My fight".

He didn't argue, but the tension in his jaw told me he didn't like it.

"Fine," he said finally. "But you follow my lead. No deviations, period."

"Deal," I said, holding out my hand.

He held mine in a firm, steady shake for a second before letting go.

---

We spent the next hours in Matteo's office poring over maps and files, reviewing surveillance photos. His men came and went, updating him on security measures or possible leads.

This is the central base for Petrov, he said, pointing at a place on the map. It is too heavily guarded to hit directly. What's the play? I asked, leaned over the desk. We go after his resources first, Matteo said. Cut off his funding, disrupt his operations. Make him weak.

It was a decent plan, not good enough for me, though. "And then?" I pressed. "We just wait for him to come after us again?"

"No," Matteo said, his voice cold. "We finish him. For good."

I nodded, the determination in his voice matching my own.

As the day wore on, exhaustion began to creep in. My mind was spinning with information, my body aching from the constant tension. Matteo must have noticed because he finally leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Go check on Callum,” he said, his tone softer. “Get some rest. We’ll pick this up later.”

I did, but it wasn't until the promise of seeing Callum's sweet face made the act worth it that my hesitation felt wrong.

"Alright," I said, standing and stretching. "But don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

Matteo smirked-the slightest trace of humor bleeding into his hard expression. "No promises.

Callum was in the living room, playing on the floor with a heap of toys some of Matteo's men must have brought in. He looked up when I entered, and a smile lit up his face, melting all the darkness weighing me down.

"Momma!" he called, holding up a toy car. "Look what I got!"

I smiled, joining him on the couch. "Wow, that's great, baby. Who gave you that?

The man with the funny accent," Callum said, giggling.

I shot an eyebrow up to the door where one of Matteo's men was standing sentinel. He just shrugged slightly; his face unreadable.

Did you say thank you? I asked as I turned back to Callum

Yes! he exclaimed proudly while bobbing his head and his curls bounced with the action.

Good boy, I said ruffling his hair.

For one short-lived instant, I let nothing else in. I played with Callum, his giggles dominating the room and rinsing off all the insanity of the world outside.

But it wasn't meant to be.

Matteo stood framed in the doorway, his features somber.

"We've got a lead," he said, eyes for me and me alone.

I rose to my feet, my heart racing. "What is it?

"One of Petrov's lieutenants is holding a shipment tonight," Matteo said. "Weapons, drugs, maybe both. It's going down at the docks."

"And you're after it," I replied, knowing the answer.

"Yes," Matteo said. "And I want you to stay here."

"Absolutely not," I replied in turn.

"Lilianna-"

"No," I said, firm. "This is my fight too, Matteo. I'm coming with you."

He stared at me for one long moment, his jaw tight. Then he nodded. "Fine. But you follow my lead."

"Deal," I said, my voice steady.

I turned to Callum, crouching down so I was at eye level with him. "I need you to stay here with the nice men, okay, baby? I'll be back soon."

He frowned, his little brow furrowing. "Where are you going?

"I need to attend to something," I whispered. "But I'll be back before you know it."

"Promise?" he asked, his voice small.

"I promise," I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As I rose, Matteo set an encouraging hand on my shoulder. "He'll be safe here," he said low.

I nodded, a lump in my throat.

"Let's go," Matteo said then, firm.