Page 62 of His Ruthless Claim

"The gambling rings in the south side too." The words taste foreign on my tongue. "I'm restructuring our hierarchy."

Murmurs ripple through the room. Carmine leans forward in his chair. His tattooed hands clench on his knees. "Boss?"

"Ace takes Syracuse. Carmine gets the south side territory." I meet each man's gaze, noting the shock, the wariness. They're waiting for the trap, the test. I've never willingly released control of anything. "Full autonomy on day-to-day operations. Weekly reports only."

The tension bleeds from Bas' shoulders first. He's known me longest, and I wonder if he can see what I'm thinking. Carmine and Ace still look skeptical.

"What about the docks?" Mickey asks.

"You're handling those now." I rest my elbows on the desk, studying their reactions. The relief is palpable, spreading through the room like a physical force. I've been suffocating them all with my need for control, just like I suffocated Skye.

"Any other changes?" Ace's voice carries a note of hope I've never heard before.

"Several." I outline the new structure, watching years of tension melt from their faces. I've been so busy maintainingperfect control that I missed how it was breaking everything around me.

The meeting disperses, but I remain at my desk, fingers tracing the worn silver edge of my Rolex. Each tick echoes through my chest, a steady rhythm that used to remind me of trapped metal and burning gasoline. Now it speaks of something else - possibility, change, the chance to break cycles I never thought I could escape.

I press my thumb against the watch face, remembering my mother's smile as she fastened it around my small wrist. "Your grandfather wore this when he chose love over duty," she'd said. "Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let go."

The irony twists in my gut. I'd held onto control so tightly I'd strangled everything good in my life, just like my father did after we lost her. Every tick of this watch marked another moment I chose fear over trust, power over connection.

My phone lights up with the security feed. Skye's leaving work early today, her slim figure wrapped in a cream dress that makes her skin glow. She pauses outside the boutique, amber eyes scanning the street. It reminds me so much of that first night. Of the first time our eyes connected and I was fucking gone.

The watch ticks against my pulse. My mother would've loved her - would've recognized that same fierce spirit she carried. Instead of following my father's path of possessive control, I could honor my mother's memory by choosing differently. By being worthy of the woman who makes me feel something besides emptiness.

The watch ticks. Skye slides into her car. My chest aches with an unfamiliar feeling - not the usual void, but something warm and terrifying. Something worth fighting for.

The reports keep coming in over the days, a steady stream of updates that should focus on security but increasingly drift intodetails about her life. I find myself hungry for every scrap of information, analyzing not just her safety but her state of mind.

She smiled today, boss. Real big when that regular customer brought her coffee.

Mickey's text hits different than his usual updates. I think my boys have been worried about her, too. The knot in my chest loosens slightly.

Another ping.

She's laughing with her friends at lunch.

Each message paints a picture - Skye thriving, living, existing in a world without my suffocating presence. The surveillance that started as a means of control has become a window into her happiness.

"You're torturing yourself." Bas drops into the chair across from my desk, his weathered face creased with concern. "Just go see her."

I don't even look up from the picture Mickey sent with his lace message.

"Christ." Carmine appears in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame. "You've got twenty guys reporting her every move and all you care about is if she enjoyed her fucking sandwich?"

"Watch yourself." The warning slips out automatically, but lacks its usual edge.

"She's good, Luca." Bas leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Safe. Happy even. But she'd be happier with-"

"Don't." I cut him off, staring at her picture. I've never felt such an acute ache before and it fuckinghurts. Forget an itch. I feel like I'm drowning without her.

"You're different with her." Mickey's voice carries an unusual gentleness. "That's not a bad thing."

I don't respond, just staring at her head tipped back and her face lit up in that beautiful smile. One that will never be turned on me again.

"Boss." Bas tries again. "We've known you since-"

I wave him off, unable to handle their concern. Unable to process how my need to control her movements has shifted into this desperate hunger for proof that she's okay without me.

---