Page 8 of Obsession & Oath

Castello di Ferro,the Iron Castle. Home to the Grasso di Ferro (of Italian mafia fame), led by the fearsome matriarch Evelina Grasso herself.

Mia madre.

I’ve not spoken to my mother in five years.

I have no intention of breaking the habit now.

“Dante,” Leon barks, drawing me away from my internal torment and toward his beckoning hand.

I follow him into his office and immediately begin making my case.

“There are a hundred other places we could take her,” I say without preamble. “I have connections all over South Africa. Greece is nice this time of year. I could even take her up to Canada and keep her with the Sicilians for a while.”

Leon-ever-suffering-Natali looks at me as if he’s ready to go straight to blows with me.

I take a step back automatically and begin answering myself on his behalf. “Of course, the Cartel knows about our connections to South Africa and the Sicilians. And the Greeks are incapable of keeping information to themselves.”

Leon begins to massage his temples.

I don’t stop. “It needs to be somewhere secure, somewhere they won’t think to look. Europe is a big place. Give me twenty-four hours, and I’ll find something else.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Leon barks through my barrage of pleading like a freight train. “I need Carmen on the next plane out of JFK, and you are going to make that happen and keep her secure until I need her again.”

The problem with this is that, yes, I know a lot of people. I know a lot of people with places that could secure a perpetual flight risk (and sacrificial virgin, apparently).

But none would be prepared to take me in immediately and not ask questions.

And the war between the Prince’s Guild and the Cartel has been going on far too long for us to be able to afford fucking this up.

I sit down on a seat and help myself to the decanter of whiskey Leon has lying on the table next to it.

The don looks at me in exasperation, but I can’t bring myself to care. It’s slowly beginning to dawn on me that I have no alternative options here.

“What’s in Emilia-Romagna?” Leon asks as he gives in and slides into the seat opposite me.

I take a long drink of whiskey before replying. “My mother.”

Leon, funnily enough, sympathizes with this with a horrified grimace. But I wouldn’t touch his mommy issues with a barge pole, either.

“I’ll have Rocco run comms while you’re out there,” he offers instead by means of comfort. “Hopefully, you won’t be out there long.”

I take in his slouched posture and the dark circles under his eyes and find myself grateful that the weight of the war isn’t on my shoulders. “You’ll finish this, boss, no doubt about it.”

He smirks. It’s a tired expression, but it meets his eyes. “Get the princess out of here for me?”

“Yeah,” I say, resigning myself to my fate. “Whatever it takes.”

I go to stand, downing the rest of my glass as I go to leave, only to be stopped by Leon on my way out.

“I trust you’ll keep to your word?”

I pause, turning to give him a confused look.

“You won’t touch her. If the Cartel needs her to remain…virtuous,” he scrunches his nose in distaste. “I need her to come back in one piece.”

“It’s gross, right? It’s not just me. How would they even be able to tell?”

Leon hums his agreement. “But it’s important to them, so it’s important to us. Nothing can happen to her.”

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