Page 58 of Brando

My gaze drifts to another corner of the room, where the big man is standing, his silent, assessing gaze unreadable as it moves slowly around the room. Instead of looking like he just came out of a battle, he looks suitably prepared for a photo shoot. He’s the anomaly amongst the men. They’re all wearing dark fatigues, their clothes blending with the night, yet he’s wearing a grey suit that struggles for purchase as it stretches across the defined muscles of his back. I heard them call him the Enforcer, but I don’t know much else about him beside the fact that he saved these men tonight.

He looks like he’s the kind of man who’s seen death too many times to flinch. The kind of man who can make decisions in the heat of battle with a clarity that others would falter under. He looks like a leader. So, I wonder why he’s made a life of cleaning other people’s messes. But I don’t allow myself to linger on this curiosity too long as I thank him wordlessly with a tight smile for saving us tonight. I close my eyes, the images flashing through my mind like a reel I can’t escape.

The battle had been a nightmare, even though I hadn’t seen much of it. The aftermath alone was enough to make my stomach roil as I replayed the night over and over in my head. I sighed with relief when I saw Brando walking toward me, my relief quickly replaced with fear when I noticed his blood staining the ground beneath him. I’d never seen Brando so vulnerable. So broken. But this—this was different. His shoulder, shredded from the gunshot, had left him faint and stumbling, and I moved with urgency as I tried to catch his fall.

Now, as I sit in this quiet room, trying to steady my breath and keep my mind from reliving every moment of that nightmare, I watch him. Brando isn’t one to speak much, and that’s how I know he’s still processing what happened. He’s not the kind of man who lets himself feel anything in the aftermath of a war. Not in front of others.

But I see it in his eyes—the faintest flicker of something buried deep. Guilt. Maybe regret. He doesn’t show it, not outwardly, but I know better. We all do. And it all comes back to Frank fucking Falcone. The thorn in all our sides. He somehow managed to get away; that was why the brothers had stayed behind in the burning building, intent on finding him. The Enforcer had to drag them out after telling them he was long gone.

Brando shifts in his seat, wincing slightly as he adjusts himself. His eyes meet mine across the room, and for a moment,we just stare at each other. The bond between us is unspoken but undeniable.

Rafi, who’s been quiet the whole time, looks up at the Enforcer, his voice hoarse as he addresses the room.

“He can’t stay hidden for long,” he says.

The Enforcer’s eyes flick to him for just a second, his jaw tightening slightly. But he doesn’t answer as he turns and looks at me, as though seeking permission to speak in my presence. Brando’s jaw tightens before he responds to the Enforcer’s silent question.

“She stays.”

“This started with her,” the Enforcer reminds us.

Scar steps forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “Mia is protected by the Gattis,” he starts. “Any enemy of hers is an enemy of ours.” And I’ve never been more grateful to hear such words, to feel like I’m part of something, a family in the absence of my own flesh and blood.

“I swore I’d kill him and end this,” Brando says, his eyes fixed on something on the ground.

“You have no idea what Frank’s capable of,” I tell him. He lifts his eyes, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something new in their depths. Sorrow.

“This is probably going to make it harder to find your sisters.”

His words are laced with apology. An apology that is not required; if they hadn’t turned up when they had, I don’t know what would have happened. Well, I do, but I don’t even want to think about that.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Brando. Frank has always been one step ahead of us. His plan has been ten years in the making; he’s accounted for every scenario. Every possibility and every variable.”

I lean back against the wall, my mind drifting to the future. We survived. Barely. We made it out. But at what cost? Frank is missing, we’re no closer to finding my sisters, and Brando has sustained a serious injury. I can’t help but think we’re missing something.

“How did you find me, anyway?” I ask him, as I move to take a seat closer to him.

“Believe it or not, it was the Maltese who provided us with that information.”

“Well, that’s surprising,” I scoff.

“We managed to find common ground to work together.”

“So, what’s next?” I ask. I instinctively already know, without having to ask.

This battle may be over, but I know better than to think the war is finished. There’s always more blood to spill, more enemies to face. And the fact that Frank is still out there, along with my sisters, means we have our work cut out for us.

But right now, in this small, cold room, there’s a fragile peace. And it’s enough to hold on to—for now.

30

SCAR

Istride into the room with the kind of purpose that makes the air hum, my boots thudding against the concrete floor as I move to the drafting table. The tension in the room is the kind that seeps into your bones and tightens your chest, making every breath feel like a small victory. I can feel it in the air as I stare at the map spread out on the table before me, the lines of red ink marking every key position, every movement.

The men gather around, their faces set, their eyes sharp. The Enforcer stands behind me, an asset that hasn’t left our side since we retained him for this operation. There’s a reason why he gets paid so well. And when only the best will do, the Enforcer is number one on everyone’s speed dial.

Brando walks in, defying me once again after I told him to sit this meeting out. He insists on being here. The same way he insists on being with us every step of the way until we get Falcone. He’s never been one to admit weakness, even when it’s obvious. His eyes flicker over the group as he steps inside, and there’s a quiet but unmistakable authority in the way he moves. Even with his injury, he commands attention.

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