Page 65 of The Contract

The D’Angelo empire wasn’t built on mercy—it was chiseled from bloodshed, terror, and consequence. Loyalty isn’t an ask; it’s a fucking commandment.

And traitors?

They’re strung up to serve as cautionary tales.

I’ve sensed a mole poisoning our ranks—a slow leak of betrayal whispered quietly into the dark. Which is exactly why I chose these three men. My most loyal. Most deadly.

Even then, trust isn’t blind. Their calls, texts, hell, even their fucking bathroom breaks—all of it monitored. Tracked. Analyzed.

Trust, but verify. Always fucking verify.

I’ve kept them in the dark about the truth. This mission.

No hint about what’s in those boxes or what lies ahead.

But if my father’s disappearance has taught me anything, it’s that every secret comes with a price.

Silence breeds suspicion.

And suspicion?

Breeds betrayal.

“Status?” My voice scrapes raw through my throat, roughened by restraint and enough stale air to fill King Tut’s tomb.

Hector’s gaze snaps up from the monitors, fatigue carved deep into every harsh line of his face. “Ventilation and lights up within the hour. But?—”

“But?”

“Ventilation and lights are the least of our worries. We’ve got half a dozen black sites already—why pile all our assets into one massive target?” He swallows hard, brows pulling tight. “And with Zver…”

I tug at my sleeve, shifting to adjust my cuff. “What about him?”

“Intel’s thin, but that Russian asshole’s making moves again. Rumors of a third strike incoming, boss. You’re building a crypt when we need a fucking battlefield. If he figures out the value of this location?—”

“He won’t.” My voice cracks like a whip, cutting him off cold. Since when do I owe them, or anyone, an explanation?

Hector hesitates, unease carving jagged edges into every word. “Zver’s not to be trifled with. He’s crippled half the syndicates in this city. He’s gaining ground. If he starts building alliances, your plan—whatever the fuck it is?—”

“I said he won’t.”

Silence.

These men—my men—know better than to question me. But Hector’s always been the lone wolf. Instincts sharp. Tongue sharper. And right now, his teeth are locked around a bone he won’t fucking drop.

“Tell us the plan. Let us protect you.”

My thoughts slam to a halt, mangled by words that twist like barbed wire around my mind.

“You’re already protecting me. Aren’t you?”

His spine snaps straight. “Yes, sir.”

Their discontent ripples beneath every glance, every restless shift, every breath. I feel it simmering, their hunger for vengeance—or violence, or whatever the fuck fuels their thirst for blood.

This is the moment my recklessness hits me square in the chest. Lack of trust is the ultimate weakness—usually ending with a colossal fucking knife in the back.

Kade cuts in quietly, voice deceptively calm, eyes glittering with predatory anticipation…and enough doubt in me that he spells it out like he’s teaching a toddler.

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