Page 21 of Forbidden Vengeance

“Port of Boston. O’Connor’s territory.”

Of course. The Irish getting their cut, providing cover through their legitimate shipping operations. A perfect setup—if you don’t look too closely at the paperwork.

Or at the young women who disappear between ports.

I study a photo of Elena entering Anthony’s building last week. She’s wearing Chanel, her golden hair caught in Manhattan’s wind.

Nothing in her perfect posture betrays the secret growing inside her.

“Sir?” Dante’s tone suggests he’s been trying to get my attention. “O’Connor’s waiting for confirmation about Thursday’s shipment. And his daughter’s been asking questions about our Boston holdings.”

Fucking Siobhan. Another player making moves we don’t fully understand yet.

But right now, I can’t focus on Irish politics or shipping routes or any of it. All I see is Elena carrying Anthony’s child while diving deeper into an investigation that could get her killed.

“Get me the jet,” I order, already reaching for my coat. “And find out everything about that doctor’s appointment. Every test, every detail.”

“And O’Connor?”

“Tell him I’ll get him the information he requests.” I holster my gun with practiced efficiency. “Have someone track Elena’s movements. I want to know everywhere she goes, everyone she talks to.”

“She won’t like being watched that closely,” Dante warns.

“I don’t give a fuck what she likes.” The words come out harsher than intended. “She’s carrying a ticking time bomb. Everything changes.”

I catch Dante’s knowing look but ignore it. Let him think what he wants. Elena’s pregnancy changes all the calculations, reshuffles every card on the table.

A Calabrese heir growing in her womb—it’s either the perfect cover or a death sentence.

Knowing Elena, she’ll try to play it as both.

But pregnancy makes women vulnerable. Soft. And Elena Santiago has too many enemies to afford being either.

My phone buzzes with a message from her:We need to talk.

I study the three words, imagining her composing them in that precise way she has. Always so controlled, my little planner. Always three steps ahead.

But this time, she’s miscalculated. A baby isn’t just leverage or an opportunity. It’s a weakness enemies will exploit. Avulnerability that can’t be hidden behind designer clothes and perfect manners.

I think of Matteo’s wife, how her pregnancy made her a target.

History has a way of repeating in our world.

Stay where you are, I text back.I’m coming to you.

Her response is immediate:Don’t do anything reckless.

I almost smile. As if she doesn’t know that everything about us—about this—has been reckless from the start.

I tuck the surveillance photos into my jacket pocket, but one catches my eye. Elena leaving the doctor’s office, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. It’s such a small gesture, unconscious probably, but it changes everything.

The need to protect her—to destroy anyone who might harm her or the child she carries—rises like a tide. Dark and unstoppable.

Anthony Calabrese might have put his child in her womb, but Elena Santiago belongs to me. Has since that first night outside her office, when she looked at me without fear and saw exactly what I was offering.

Time to remind her of that fact.

“Have the jet ready in twenty,” I tell Dante. “And get me everything we have on Anthony’s schedule for the next week.”

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