Page 98 of Forbidden Vengeance

“He’s going to come for us,” I say quietly, one hand protective over our daughter. “For her.”

Mario’s arms wrap around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder as we watch Anthony unravel on screen. “I dare him to.”

But we both know this isn’t just about us anymore. This is about two visions of the future colliding—tradition versus progress, blood versus choice, the old world dying violently as the new one struggles to be born.

And our daughter is caught in the crossfire.

Anger rises in me as I watch Anthony’s ranting replay on screen. How dare he try to claim this child as his? He wasnothing but a sperm donor—a means to an end while I gathered intelligence.

This baby is a DeLuca, regardless of whose blood flows through her veins.

I grab my phone, dialing Siobhan with sudden purpose. “I need a favor,” I say the moment she answers.

“The Irish are at your disposal,” she responds immediately, making both Mario and me pause in surprise.

“Wait,what?” Mario responds, leaning forward in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” Siobhan says, affronted. “I can be generous when it serves my interests.”

Mario mutters something under his breath about generous snakes, earning a smack from me.

“I need forces in New York,” I tell her. “For when Anthony makes his final move.”

“Delighted to help eliminate more old guard deadweight,” Siobhan practically purrs. “How many men do you need?”

I glance at Mario, eyebrows raised. “As many as you can spare without compromising Boston.”

“Done,” Siobhan remarks. “And Elena? Make it hurt.”

Within several hours, the Irish arrive in New York. I coordinate with Siobhan’s forces while monitoring Anthony’s movements. The Irish crews loyal to her now guard our perimeter, working seamlessly with Mario’s security teams.

Even Matteo has contributed protection, our careful new alliance proving stronger than old vendettas.

“Every traditional faction that resents how the families are changing—they’re all at the Calabrese mansion, swearing blood oaths about restoring proper order,” Antonio tells us that evening.

My phone chimes from Antonio’s intelligence, showing Calabrese movements—weapons being stockpiled, crews takingpositions near our allies’ businesses, old guard soldiers infiltrating places we once thought secure. Anthony is building toward something big, something that will make Sean Murphy’s execution look like a warning shot.

“My guards caught three of his men trying to breach the hospital’s security,” Matteo tells me, his voice icy with rage. “They were placing spotters, learning shift changes. He’s planning for every contingency.”

My hands shake slightly as I rest them on my bump. Anthony knows I’m due soon. Knows our daughter could arrive any day. He’s preparing to take what he sees as his, to rip her away from the “corruption” of our modernized world.

“He’ll strike during a public event,” I tell Mario. My fingers trace over the society calendar on my laptop. “Somewhere he thinks he can control the variables. Somewhere my security will be stretched thin by social obligations.”

“The children’s hospital benefit,” Mario says, studying the schedule. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he recognizes the perfect trap. “Next week at the Plaza. He knows you won’t skip it—not with your reputation for handling their annual fundraiser.”

The realization settles like ice in my veins. It’s perfect really—a high-profile event I can’t avoid without raising suspicion.

“He’s counting on my pride,” I say quietly. “On my need to maintain appearances.”

Mario scowls, his fingers drumming against the table. “We could send Kate—” He starts to suggest but I cut him off.

“No.” I meet Mario’s gaze steadily. “He wants us afraid. Wants us hiding. I won’t give him that satisfaction.”

The hospital relies on my connections, my ability to squeeze maximum donations from Manhattan’s wealthy. Even now, eight months pregnant and being hunted, I can’t abandon them. Those sick children need every dollar I can extract from society’s elite. Anthony will expect that loyalty, will plan around it.

“We could use it,” I suggest, my mind already mapping possibilities as I pace our command center. “Let him think he’s cornered us. Meanwhile, Siobhan’s crews will be in position, the DeLuca teams ready. We control more variables than he realizes.”

I pull up security layouts for the Plaza with fresh eyes—seeing beyond the usual event planner concerns to every vulnerability Anthony might exploit. Each service entrance becomes a potential attack point. Every blind spot in the camera coverage offers both threat and opportunity. All the hidden routes I once used for more innocent purposes now transform into tactical considerations.

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