Page 19 of Breeding Justice

Dante shrugged, as though the absurdity of it didn’t bother him. “It’s not about love, Hassan. It’s about control. Vito knows he’s not leaving his empire to anyone who’ll handle it the way he wants. He sees SJ as his only option—a clean slate he can mold into what he needs.”

All it would take was one misstep, one sign that SJ wasn’t really on the table, and this whole thing would go up in flames—with Justice, Bash, and Skylar still in the fire.

SJ didn’t stay put for long. As Dante spoke, his low, commanding tone filling the room, SJ wriggled away from Jade’s careful attention. His small, determined footsteps echoed on the polished hardwood as he toddled over to Dante, cow puzzle piece still clutched in his tiny fist.

“Tío Dante!” SJ called, his high-pitched voice piercing through the weighty tension. He reached up toward Dante with both arms, demanding attention in the way only a two-year-old could.

For a moment, the room froze. I saw Zane tense, his hazel eyes narrowing as they flicked between SJ and Dante. Even Jadestraightened where she sat, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. It wasn’t fear that filled the air, exactly—more like a guarded uncertainty. SJ wasn’t afraid of Dante, not in the slightest. But the rest of us knew better than to let our guard down.

Dante’s dark eyes shifted from me to SJ, his expression unreadable. For a beat, I thought he might ignore the boy altogether, that his ruthless pragmatism didn’t extend to the soft, innocent weight of a toddler. But then his lips twitched into something resembling a smile—not a kind one, but a faint crack in his polished veneer.

He crouched down, folding his tall frame with effortless grace, and looked SJ directly in the eyes. “What is it, piccolo uomo?” he asked, his voice dropping into a softer, almost conversational tone.

SJ grinned and thrust the cow puzzle piece toward him. “Cow go moo!” he declared, his chubby cheeks flushed with triumph.

Dante raised an eyebrow, glancing at the puzzle piece as if it were a foreign object. Then, with a slow nod, he said, “Yes. Cow goes moo.”

SJ beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “Tío Dante smart!” he declared, before immediately turning and toddling back toward Jade without a second thought, leaving the cow puzzle piece on the floor between them.

Dante straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his tailored trousers, and picked up his whiskey glass as though nothing had happened. “Your nephew,” he said, looking at me, “has no sense of danger.”

“He has a sense of trust,” I shot back, watching SJ settle into Jade’s lap. “And that’s more than most kids in his position get.”

Dante gave a low hum, neither agreement nor dismissal. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t pay for that trust,” he said, his voice once again edged with steel.

Zane let out a breath he’d been holding. “The point stands, Dante. You’re asking us to dangle SJ like bait. Hassan’s right—this is fucked.”

“No,” Dante replied, his tone cool and deliberate. “What’s fucked is Vito thinking he can take him without consequences. That’s where I come in.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the weight of SJ’s presence in the room like a stone in my gut. “You’d better mean that,” I said. “Because if this goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” Dante interrupted, his gaze cutting into me like a blade. “Because I don’t lose.”

“You’d better be right,” I muttered, turning away from him to glance back at SJ. He was giggling now, holding out another puzzle piece for Jade, who was obliging him with a smile that masked her own exhaustion. The sight was grounding, a reminder of what was at stake. Of why we had to win.

“He’s right, you know,” Jade said. “I mean, for what it’s worth. I’ve never seen the man fail.”

“Thanks, beautiful,” Dante said, his tone softening.

“You’ve got this, Hassan,” Jade said softly, as though reading my mind. “I’m sure if the plan wasn’t going to work, Dante wouldn’t pitch it.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. It wouldn’t, not until this was over and everyone—Justice, Bash, Skylar, and SJ—was safe. But for now, all I could do was hope that Dante Moretti was as good as he said he was.

And that Vito didn’t see through the cracks in our plan before it was too late.

Chapter Eight: Bash

We stayed low, crouched behind a row of cars, the cold asphalt pressing against my palms. My heart pounded like a drum, but my breaths stayed steady. I couldn’t afford to lose my focus now, not with Skylar being dragged toward one of the SUVs. The bastards had him pinned, his struggles growing weaker under the sheer weight of their numbers. I wanted to tear into them, to break every bone in their bodies until Skylar was free. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Justice’s sharp intake of breath beside me felt like a knife. Her body jerked against mine, her instincts screaming the same as mine: do something. I clamped my hand tighter around her wrist, pulling her back into the shadows, her wild eyes locking with mine.

“Bash—” she started, her voice a trembling whisper.

“Not now,” I hissed, low and firm. “We can’t—”

“They’ll take him,” she cut in, her voice breaking. “We can’t just—”

“We survive first,” I said, my words harsh but steady. “We’ll come back for him.”

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