Page 13 of Breeding Justice

I spun to face him. “Paranoid? That’s putting it lightly. He won’t even talk to us over the phone. What does he think this is? A Cold War spy novel?”

Zane sighed. “Just be grateful he got back to us so quickly. I heard there might be an investigation, and he has every reason not to be dealing with the Knives right now.”

“There are burner phones for a reason.”

“Hey, I don’t like this either,” Zane replied. “He thinks it’s survival,” Zane said flatly, setting the phone down with a click. He leaned back, his hazel eyes finally meeting mine. “And he’s right. Vito probably has every line tapped between here and Timbuktu. Dante’s insistence on face-to-face isn’t about making things harder—it’s about not dying.”

I gritted my teeth, a surge of frustration and helplessness washing over me. Every move felt like a gamble, and the stakes were lives—Justice’s life, Bash’s, Skylar’s. I couldn’t stop picturing Justice’s expression the last time I saw her, the way she told me to run. But how could I just leave her there?

I let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. “So, what? We just pack up Sebastian and hop on a plane to New York?”

“That’s exactly what we do,” Zane said, his tone steady. “It’s the fastest way to get there, and speed is the only advantage we have.”

“And if Vito’s men are waiting at the airport?” I challenged. “If Dante decides this isn’t worth the risk and leaves us out to dry?”

Zane’s expression hardened. “Then we deal with it. But right now, we have no choice.”

I turned away, my fists clenching at my sides. Every instinct screamed at me to keep Sebastian safe, to stay hidden and wait for a better option. But there wasn’t a better option. Not when Justice, Bash, and Skylar were running out of time.

Zane’s voice softened. “We’ll take every precaution. Fake names, cash payments, no digital trails. If Dante’s worried about security, we should be too.”

“And Sebastian?” I asked, my voice tight. “How do we keep him safe when we’re dragging him through airports and onto planes, right under Vito’s nose?”

“We do what we always do,” Zane said, his tone unflinching. “We protect him.”

I crossed the room to where I’d put the baby monitor. On the screen, Sebastian lay in his toddler bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in the soft glow of the nightlight. The thought of exposing him to any more danger made my stomach twist, but leaving him behind wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

“We leave in the morning,” I said quietly, my gaze never leaving Sebastian. “First flight out. No delays.”

Zane nodded, already reaching for the map spread out on the desk. “Don’t worry. I know exactly what we’ll do. We’ll keep our heads down.”

“And Dante?” I asked, turning back to him. “What if this is a trap? What if he’s playing both sides?”

Zane hesitated, just for a moment, before shaking his head. “Dante doesn’t play. He calculates. And if he thinks helping us hurts Vito more than it helps him, he’ll do it.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I pressed.

“Then we improvise,” Zane said simply. “But we don’t get the chance to find out unless we show up.”

His certainty should’ve been reassuring, but it wasn’t. Not when the stakes were this high. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Every breath felt heavier, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

“We’re trusting a lot of people we shouldn’t,” I said finally, my voice low.

Zane smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “But what other choice do we have?”

***

The airport buzzed with early-morning activity, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the tired faces of travelers. I clutched Sebastian tightly to my chest, his small body warm and reassuring against mine. He stirred but didn’t wake. Thank God for small mercies.

Zane walked beside me, his stride measured but his eyes scanning every corner of the terminal. He was still hurt. I’d asked him if he wanted a wheelchair and he’d told me to shut up.

His stride confident but careful, his gaze constantly roving. He scanned the ticket counter, the seating areas, and every face thatpassed. To anyone watching, he probably looked like a tired dad traveling with his family. The perfect cover.

“Cash line,” Zane muttered, nodding toward a smaller counter with a blinking sign that read, Exact Change Only. “Less traceable.”

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder. There were two men standing near the vending machines, both in plain clothes, but something about them felt...off. They weren’t talking, weren’t buying anything—just standing there, watching.

I adjusted Sebastian on my hip and followed him. The line moved slowly, but that was fine with me. Every minute we spent blending into the crowd was a minute we weren’t standing out.

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