Page 48 of Single Mom's Daddies
I lean back in my chair, raise an eyebrow. “Well. This should be good.”
“They’re working with the Costellos,” Victor says.
Roman’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the breath catch in his throat.
“Who?” I ask.
“The boys. The ones who hit the Garcías’ shop.”
I sit up straighter. “The kids?”
“They’re not kids,” Victor snaps. “They’re amateurs with blades and a pistol the Costellos handed them.”
“Did they say that?”
“They didn’t need to. I saw the gun. Heard the name come out of one of their mouths before he even knew what it meant.”
Roman’s voice is low, sharp. “You have the gun?”
Victor nods. “I kept it. The rest I tossed in the river.”
Roman turns away, pacing to the window, arms crossed behind his back.
The air in the room thickens. This isn’t just a loose thread. This is a fucking rupture.
“They’re testing us,” I say.
“They’re doing more than testing,” Victor growls. “They’re mocking us. Sending kids to do their dirty work. Betting we won’t retaliate because it’s beneath us.”
Roman exhales through his nose. “They’re betting we’re too careful.”
“They’re not wrong,” I say.
Victor turns to me. “You think we shouldn’t be careful?”
“I think we’ve been careful for five years. I think we’ve waited, watched, and cleaned up blood that wasn’t ours. And I think maybe it’s time we stop pretending peace was ever going to be an option.”
Roman’s jaw tightens.
“This isn’t just about a corner store,” I say. “They’re operating onourstreets. Paying idiots to hitourpeople. That’s not just disrespect. That’s strategy.”
Victor paces. “They’re probing. Seeing how close they can get.”
Roman mutters, “And they picked the one corner we just legitimized.” He closes his eyes briefly. “They want to destabilize the value we bring.”
“They want to provoke us,” Victor says. “And they want to do it through civilians.”
“They wantusto escalate first,” Roman finishes.
I don’t deny it. Because that’s what they want. And it’s what I want too. Let me be the one to pull the trigger. I’d enjoy it.
Victor leans against the far wall, arms folded, watching Roman like he’s waiting for permission to explode.
Roman’s voice is even, but cold. He knows me too well. “We don’t get to go in guns up.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“Good,” Victor mutters. “Because I’m done waiting.”
