Page 3 of Code Name: Grit

“Grit,” I corrected again. “And I worry about all my team members.”

“Of course you do.” She turned back to her coffee. “Purely professional concern.”

“It should be,” I muttered.

“Let’s talk about logistics,” said Admiral, drawing our attention back to the briefing. “We can make use of air transport via helicopter, but given the travel time from here to the city will take a minimum of two hours, we’ll need accommodations and equipment readily available. We can’t be shuttling back and forth for every surveillance operation.”

“I’ve already arranged for safe houses in three boroughs as well as some upstate,” said Tank. “We can pre-position vehicles and tactical gear as needed. As far as backup support, that will come from K19 here and in the city.”

When I lifted my head and my eyes met Chiara’s, she raised her chin in a way I’d seen Dante do. Given they hadn’t met until a few weeks ago, the similarities in their mannerisms were fascinating.

“If anything happens to my sister, you know I hold you responsible,” he said from behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

He nodded once. “Knowing you would was the only way Admiral convinced me to agree to her participation.”

I chuckled inwardly, picturing how Chiara—Luminous—would’ve reacted had he tried to stop her.

2

LUMI

Iwatched Drake “Grit” Harrison move through K19’s command center, struck by the contrast of his physical strength and quiet intelligence. The first time I met him, those intense dark-blue eyes seemed to see right through me. With his curly dark hair and well-kept beard, there was something magnetic about him—direct, occasionally profane, and always to the point.

Behind his no-nonsense exterior and fierce loyalty to his team, I glimpsed something haunting in his piercing gaze, a hidden wound that made me wonder what it would take to break through his fortified defenses.

Tearing my gaze from him to the view of Canada Lake brought a strange sense of familiarity. Time spent at Great Sacandaga Lake, only thirty miles from here, had been a big part of my childhood, then again recently.

“It’s a beautiful spot,” said Grit, standing beside me.

“I, um, organized the historical files by family connection rather than chronologically,” I said, focusing on the work rather than his distracting presence. “The Belcastros’ past powerstructures were based more on loyalty lines than their criminal enterprises.”

“Smart approach,” he said, following me over to my laptop, where I pulled up another file.

“These families are bound by tradition as much as blood. This cluster here,” I said, indicating data points on the screen, “shows how they systematically expanded from protection rackets to gambling operations to loan sharking. Like most legitimate businesses, they establish one revenue stream, then use that money—and muscle—to acquire the next.”

Before I could pull up another set of files, the command center’s door opened and my mother entered with Summer close behind.

“Chiara.” My mom’s tone held a warning I knew too well. “A word?”

I followed them to a small conference room, aware of Grit tracking our movement.

“Are you certain about this?” my mother asked the moment the door closed. “Working directly with the field team puts you at risk of exposure.”

“The Belcastros are murdering everyone connected to the Castellano family. How long before they trace those connections back to us?” The words emerged sharper than intended.

“Which is exactly why we should be cautious,” Summer added, her voice gentler than my mother’s but still firm. “These people don’t forgive, and they never forget.”

“I know.” Every new identity, every midnight escape, every fabricated background story—they were all seared into my memory. “We have different resources now, protection?—”

“That doesn’t mean we can afford to become complacent,” my mom cut in. “Self-reliance is what kept us alive. If Cassio ever…” She shuddered, letting her sentence remain unfinished.

I caught the flash of pain in her eyes. I’d often wondered if she loved Cassio Belcastro before his family’s violence had forced her to choose between him and protecting their unborn child.

“Have you ever thought about what it would be like?” I asked quietly. “If I ever came face-to-face with him?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “That can never happen, Chiara.”

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