Chapter 66: We Don’t Quit The Familia

“Why do you do this?” she asked quietly. “Why do you do this job?”

“Some paths in our lives are chosen for us,” Marco said.

“You can choose your own path, Marco.” She stood in front of him. Her eyes were too big for her face tonight, glossy with fear.

“We don’t quit the familia, Miss Scalese. Don’t worry about me. Come on. Get something to eat. It’s going to be a long night. Go.”

She nodded and turned toward the kitchen, her steps light but stiff.

She had barely crossed the threshold when the sound reached him. Engines. Multiple. Marco’s body reacted. His spine straightened. His hand flexed. His eyes snapped to the camera screen mounted on the left wall.

The courtyard bloomed on the monitor. Black SUVs rolled in. Doors opened. Men stepped out.

Julian.

What the fuck were they doing there?

Julian adjusted his coat as he walked. His men fanned out.

Marco was on his feet and moving. He crossed the living room and stepped outside.

They stopped inches apart.

“This is a safe house,” Marco said. “I have no prior notification you will be here.”

Julian smiled, eyes glittering with amusement. “That’s odd,” he replied lightly. “Since your boss usually tells you everything.”

“You cannot go in.”

Marco could feel the eyes of Julian’s men on him.

“I cannot? Do you forget you work for the familia? I am the familia,” Julian said. He stood perfectly relaxed, hands loose at his sides.

“I work for Luciano Genovese,” Marco shot back without hesitation. His stance was solid, feet planted. His shoulders were squared, jaw tight, eyes flat and unblinking. “He is the familia.”

The insult landed exactly where Marco intended. Julian’s lips curved slowly, wickedly. He would never get tired of that particular cut. Blood might be thicker than water, but respect was rarer than gold. His younger brother had it. He did not.

Julian reached into his coat and pulled out his phone. He dialed without looking. As soon as Luca picked up, “Call your bulldog off,” he snarled into the phone. He ended the call just as abruptly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

They stood toe to toe in the courtyard, the night holding its breath around them. The men behind Julian remained still, disciplined, eyes darting between Marco’s hands and the doors to the house.

Marco’s phone buzzed.

He didn’t break eye contact as he pulled it out. One glance was enough. Luca had authorized it. Authorized Julian to oversee the exchange procedure.

Permission to stand down.

Permission to let the wolf inside.

Marco stepped aside.

Julian passed him with a satisfied smirk, his men following. Marco remained where he was for a beat, jaw grinding as his mind raced.

This would put a wrench in his plan.

A serious wrench.

Julian and his men meant variables Marco had not calculated for. Eyes where there should be none. Ears where silence was required.

Fuck.

He turned and followed them in.

Marco scanned automatically, noting positions, exits, shadows. Julian’s men spread out, one near the stairs, two by the living room, another lingering too close to the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Marco moved toward the kitchen.

He found Valentina tucked into the corner beside the counter, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her face had gone pale, eyes wide and dark, fear finally slipping past the cracks in her bravery.

“What’s going on?” she whispered as she quickly got to her feet.

Marco stopped in front of her. His hand came up, resting lightly on her arm.

“Nothing. Stick to the plan,” Marco said.

“Marco?”

“Stay calm,” he said. “I promise, you will be fine. Trust me.”

He pressed a key into her palm. Her fingers curled around it.

“Just make sure you have your seat belt on,” he added.

Valentina nodded.

Calm, she was not.

Her heart was a trapped animal, slamming against her ribs, each beat too loud, too fast. The house felt wrong now. Not unsafe exactly. Worse. Occupied.

Even with the house crowded with men, it was eerily quiet. Julian stood near the center of the living room, phone in hand, tapping away. His posture was relaxed, arrogant.

His men took up strategic positions around the house, blocking exits, leaning against walls, hands never far from their weapons. They didn’t speak. They were statues with pulse rates.

Luca’s men, by contrast, lounged. They knew whose house this was. They knew whose word mattered.

Valentina’s eyes kept finding Marco.

Every muscle in his body was wound tight, eyes tracking everything, everyone. Even when he told her to stay calm, his body betrayed him. He was anticipating impact. Waiting for something to go wrong. Planning for it.

She swallowed hard.

She didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. She didn’t know if the plan would work. She didn’t know if she would live through it.

But she needed him to know.

She needed Marco to know that even if the plan failed, even if the night swallowed them whole, what he had done for her mattered. That she saw it. That she was grateful.

The problem was there was no way to get him alone.

Every time she shifted toward him, someone moved. A man stepped closer. A presence filled the space. Eyes watched. Julian’s gaze flicked toward her once.

Time dragged.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. 10:12. 10:18. 10:24.

At 10:30 pm, everything shifted.

One of Julian’s men approached her, he gestured toward the door. “Time.”

Valentina’s stomach dropped.

She glanced at Marco. He met her eyes immediately. It terrified her and steadied her at the same time.

She rose on unsteady legs and followed the man outside.

This was it.

Stick to the plan, she reminded herself.

Even as fear crawled up her spine, even as her heart tried to outrun her body, one thought burned brighter than the rest.

She trusted Marco.

And that trust might kill them both.

Marco hung back. Valentina’s eyes widened as she stared at him, confusion crashing into fear. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He wasn’t sliding into the driver’s seat. He was still standing there.

No.

(14 to go)

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