Page 132 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
Luca studies me for a moment before shaking his head, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re a stubborn bastard."
I pour myself a glass of whiskey. "And?"
He snorts. "And nothing. Just making an observation." Then, more seriously, "How much does Sofia know?"
"She knows enough." I set my glass down, fingers pressing against the wood. "She knows she’s safer with me than anywhere else."
"And you?"
I glance at him. "What about me?"
Luca’s smirk fades, replaced by something unreadable. "Are you going to tell her how far you’re willing to go for her? Or are you just going to let her figure it out when there’s no turning back?"
I don’t answer immediately.
Because the truth is, I don’t know.
Sofia already knows what kind of man I am. She knows I’m not soft, that I don’t hesitate, that I will burn down anything in my path to protect what’s mine. But knowing that in theory and witnessing it firsthand are two different things.
She’s already starting to let her walls down, already leaning into me more than she wants to admit. And I’m not about to let that slip away.
But I also won’t let her be collateral damage in a war she never asked for.
Luca doesn’t push for an answer, just finishes his drink and nods. "I’ll start pulling together the men."
I nod once, and he heads for the door.
But before he steps out, he glances back. "Be careful with her, Marco."
I don’t respond.
Because careful isn’t an option anymore.
I finish the last sip of my drink, the burn searing down my throat.
The thought ringsthrough my skull, hours later, as I step into the main hall of the estate, where my top men are already gathered.
"They’ve been using the docks to funnel money and weapons through the city," Luca says, unrolling a map onto the table, his voice clipped, efficient. He drags a finger along the eastern waterfront, tapping once. "If we take the docks, we take their supply chain. No product, no power."
"They’ll push back," Dante mutters, flicking ash from his cigarette. "They’ve got more men on the streets, but they don’t have the structure to survive without the cash flow. Cut the money, and their foot soldiers start looking for a better offer."
"Which is why we hit them at the same time," I say, my voice even. "We take the docks, but we also hit their strongholds—their warehouses, their safe houses, the places they think are untouchable. They’ll be scrambling before they even know what hit them."
The men nod, their expressions sharpening, the tension in the room shifting into something colder, more certain.
I push off the table, straightening, my words measured. "This isn’t just about Mancini anymore. The Lombardis had orders to take Sofia alive." A silence stretches, hard and unforgiving. "They were planning something bigger. And I’m not waiting to find out what."
Dante’s jaw tightens, his fingers tapping once against the table before stilling. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a thrill in the promise of violence. "Then we finish this now."
I nod. "We do."
Luca steps forward, pressing a hand to the map, flattening the creases. "They’re weakest here," he says, pointing to a section of the docks where the Lombardis’ operations run lean. "Security is light during shift changes at dawn. If we move fast, we can take it with minimal losses."
He doesn’t have to say it, but I know this isn’t just strategy. He won’t be fighting alongside me tonight. Luca will be leading his own war—taking a crew and dismantling the Lombardis’ outer networks. While I carve through their inner circle, Luca will make sure there’s nothing left beyond it.
I turn to Rico. "You’ll take the warehouse district. Go in clean, precise. I want every last Lombardi operation erased. No survivors."
Rico grins, dragging his cigarette through the ashtray, snuffing it out in one slow movement. "I live to serve."
