Page 43 of Lured By the Cartel

"Yes," Lucas answered calmly, though I saw his hand briefly touch the concealed weapon he always carried now. "Sometimes protecting family means making hard choices."

"Is that why you and Papa are teaching us both business and fighting?" Matteo asked. "So we can make those choices too?"

"Exactly," I nodded, proud that they understood. "Knowledge and strength, together. One without the other is useless in our world."

The twins exchanged that particular look I'd come to recognize—the same one they'd shared as toddlers plotting to steal cookies, as five-year-olds covering for each other's mishaps, and now as budding cartel heirs. Alessandro's slight head tilt, Matteo's barely perceptible eyebrow raise; they were having an entire conversation without uttering a word.

It reminded me of watching them in their shared crib, tiny fingers intertwined even in sleep. Now those same hands were learning to handle weapons and negotiate deals, but that unshakeable bond remained.

Alessandro might be the first to throw a punch in his brother's defense, while Matteo could destroy someone's reputation with a few well-placed words, but they were always in sync—two sides of the same deadly coin we'd created.

"Like you and Daddy," Alessandro said finally. "Papa has the strength, and Daddy has the brains."

Lucas laughed out loud at that. "Oh, piccolo, your Papa is far smarter than he lets on. And I'm not exactly helpless myself."

"Your father," I added, pulling him closer, "is the strongest person I know. He just shows it differently than most people expect."

I watched understanding dawn in their eyes—Matteo's analytical mind already connecting the dots while Alessandro's fingers twitched like he was mentally practicing his aim.

They devoured knowledge the way other kids consumed video games, whether it was Lucas teaching them how to spot a lie or me showing them how to disarm an opponent. Where my childhood had been a brutal education in survival, filled with my father's harsh lessons and the constant threat of failure, our sons were learning the art of power from two very different masters.

They saw how Lucas could dismantle a rival's plans with a few careful words over coffee, and how I could command respect with just a look. They were learning that sometimes the best solution was their daddy's subtle manipulation, and sometimes it was their papa's show of force.

"Can we watch the next territory meeting?" Matteo asked hopefully. "The one with the Russian families?"

"No," Lucas and I said at the same time, then shared a knowing look.

"But-" Alessandro started to protest.

"When you're older," Lucas cut him off gently. "For now, focus on your studies—both academic and practical. There's time enough for everything else."

The boys grumbled but didn't argue. They'd learned early that while I might occasionally be swayed by their pleading, Lucas was immovable once he'd made up his mind about their safety.

"Go find Antonio," I suggested. "He's supposed to be teaching you about surveillance today."

They brightened right away—Antonio was their favorite teacher, probably because he snuck them candy during lessons. As they rushed out, I pulled Lucas fully into my lap, burying my face in his neck.

"They're growing up too fast," I murmured against his skin.

"Says the man who started learning about cartel business at ten," he reminded me, running his fingers through my now mostly silver hair.

"That was different," I argued. "I didn't have a choice. They do."

Lucas shifted to face me, his expression serious. "Do they? Really? This life... it's in their blood now. The best we can do is prepare them for it better than your father prepared you."

He was right, of course. He usually was about these things. "At least they have you to balance out my more... aggressive tendencies."

"Oh please," he scoffed. "I can be just as aggressive when needed. I just prefer to be more strategic about it."

As if to prove his point, my phone buzzed with a message—surveillance photos showing our latest territorial expansion, orchestrated entirely by Lucas while making it look like our rivals' own idea. He'd become a master at manipulation, using his omega status to make people underestimate him right until it was too late.

"Remind me never to play chess with you," I said, admiring his handiwork.

"Too late," he grinned. "I've been playing chess with you for years. You just didn't realize it."

A commotion outside drew our attention. Through the window, we could see the twins practicing hand-to-hand combat with Antonio, their movements already showing the precisionwe'd drilled into them. Alessandro favored direct attacks, while Matteo preferred to wait for openings—a perfect reflection of their personalities.

"They're going to be formidable," Lucas observed proudly.

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