Page 61 of Bound to the Enforcer

I stand by the window, looking out at the city skyline as the sun sets, the last slivers of daylight fading into the night. The quiet hum of the city below seems so distant from the chaos that's been surrounding us, but I know it won't last.

Domenico knows we've found the kids. We can't even pretend he doesn't. His retaliation will come fast. He'll be accelerating his plans, trying to finish what he started before we can stop him.

I turn from the window as Alessio steps into the room, his face unreadable as always, but the dark circles under his eyes betray the exhaustion he's been hiding. He doesn't say anything right away, just moves past me to gather his jacket and gear. I watch him for a moment, trying to gauge what's going through his mind.

"You ready?" I ask, my voice quiet but steady.

Alessio doesn't look at me at first, but then he pauses, his back to me. "You've heard what they want. You know the stakes."

I nod, my fingers tightening on the strap of my bag. We've been over this a dozen times, but the reality of it is settling in now—Domenico is cornered, and so are we. The families are our only shot at shutting him down for good, but they won't make it easy. They don't trust us, not after everything that's happened.

"I know," I say. "I'm ready."

He turns then, his eyes meeting mine, and for the briefest moment, I see something in his expression—a quiet, almost unreadable sadness. Maybe it's the weight of everything we've lost. Maybe it's the fact that we're walking into the lion's den.

"Just… stay close," he says, softer than I expect. "If things go south, I need you to stick with me."

"I will." I speak with a firmness, even if my heart is racing in my chest. I won't leave him. Not now. Not ever.

He steps forward then and pulls me into his arms, his warmth grounding me in the chaos of everything. I let myself lean into him, breathing in the scent of him—leather, gunpowder, and something else I can't quite place. Comfort, maybe.

"We'll end this tonight," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine.

I nod, my throat tight. "We have to."

For a long moment, we just stand there, holding each other in the quiet before the storm. It feels like everything is weighing down on us—Domenico's plans, the families' distrust, the kids we rescued. Everything.

I pull away from him, taking a step back as I look at him one last time. "Let's go."

The ride to the Romano mansion is silent, the car speeding through the streets as I stare out the window, trying to steady my breath. Alessio's presence beside me is a quiet reassurance, but even he can't hide the tension in his shoulders. He's always been good at hiding his emotions, but I can feel the strain in him now, the weight of what's to come.

As we approach the mansion, the grand structure looming ahead, I can feel my pulse quicken. The meeting with the families is here, and everything depends on it. If we can convince them that Domenico is the real threat, that they have to stand with us, we have a chance. But if we fail, we'll be fighting this battle alone.

We pull up to the front gates, and the massive stone walls of the mansion come into view, towering and imposing. Guards stand on every corner, their presence a reminder of the power they wield.

Alessio doesn't say anything as we step out of the car, but I can feel the finality of it all. This could be the last time we walk away from something like this.

"Stay sharp," he says as he walks toward the front door.

I fall into step beside him, my heart pounding in my chest. We've been through so much to get here, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment.

The door to the mansion opens before we even knock, and we're ushered inside by two of Domenico's men. They don't look at us with hostility, but their eyes are cold—calculating.

We follow them through the marble halls, the tension thick in the air. The silence is oppressive, and for a moment, I wonder if we're walking into a trap. This is the first time I have been home in weeks. This place doesn't even feel like home anymore.

The room we're led to is grand, filled with heavy wooden furniture, old portraits, and dark curtains that shut out the light. The five families are seated at a long, polished table. Their eyes turn toward us as we enter, their faces unreadable.

Domenico is there, too, sitting at the head of the table, his expression twisted into something that could almost pass as a smile.

"You're late."

"We were busy," Alessio replies coldly, his eyes not leaving Domenico's.

I stand beside him, my hand instinctively reaching for my gun, though I don't draw it. The air between us and the families is thick, charged with distrust, and I know that this meeting could go either way.

"Let's get to it," I enthuse. "We know what you've been doing, Domenico. The children. The trafficking."

The room falls silent, the families exchanging glances.

---