Page 515 of Rosetti Family New York
I turn to face them one by one, channeling every family dinner, every overheard conversation, every moment I tried not to understand what was really being discussed.
"Rafe, you're the enforcer. When talking fails, when intimidation is the only language left." His eyebrows climb. "Milo, you're our eyes everywhere. Surveillance, intelligence, making sure we know everything before anyone else knows anything."
Milo straightens, those eyes sharpening.
"Matt, you're the one who opens doors with charm instead of explosives," I say, and Matt stops flipping his coin. "You getinformation through smiles and drinks and making people want to help us."
I let the tension build as understanding dawns on their faces.
"Leo, you're chaos incarnate. You keep enemies off-balance because even we don't always know what you'll do next."
Leo's mouth opens, closes, opens again.
"Oh Leo, you're adorable when you're speechless. Happens so rarely I should take a picture. And Dom," I add, meeting our future don's intense green eyes, "you coordinate all of us. You see the big picture, assign roles, make the hard calls when lives are at stake."
Dom's eyes narrow, seeing something new in my face—not the detailed tactical knowledge I don't have, but the strategic understanding that's been growing since I chose to stay in this world.
The silence stretches. Then Dom's expression shifts—not to the detailed understanding I don't have yet, but to something like recognition.
"I've been learning," I continue, letting exhaustion creep into my voice for just a moment. "Maybe not every detail, but enough. Enough to know what we're capable of when family is threatened."
I pull out my phone and dial our Chicago cousins, putting it on speaker. The video call connects immediately.
"Carmela?" Marco's surprise is obvious. "We weren't expecting—"
"I need a full tactical assessment." The authority in my voice surprises even me—but then again, I've been listening to Rosettis command rooms my whole life. "Van has been taken. I'm coordinating the rescue."
Through the screen, Marco straightens, his whole demeanor shifting from casual to lethal in a heartbeat. His fingers fly across a tablet.
"Location confirmed. Abandoned medical facility, nineteen miles northwest. Three exits, minimal civilian exposure."
"Perfect." I watch my brothers' faces as I continue. "Marco, tell me about survivor protocols."
His smile is all teeth. "What survivors? After what they've done to family, we might have some regrets about leaving anyone breathing."
"They've had three days with him." My voice stays bright, almost conversational, which somehow makes it worse. "I want them to understand what that means. Budget is unlimited—whatever equipment, whatever bribes, whatever we need. Millions if necessary."
"Done. Chicago resources are yours."
I end the call and turn back to my brothers, who are looking at me like I've grown a second head. A competent second head.
The silence stretches until Dom nods slowly. "You're not our baby sister anymore."
"No." I let myself smile—not the barbed thing I've been practicing, but something real despite everything. "I'm someone who can help. Finally."
Rafe's already pulling out his phone. "Ground teams and weapons. Fast and hard."
"Medical support ready," Milo adds, laptop already open. "Three extraction routes to different facilities."
Matt pockets his coin. "I'll handle the official complications. Everyone who might interfere gets paid to be somewhere else."
Leo cracks his knuckles, that wild energy sparking. "Just point me at whoever needs hurting."
Dom walks around the table to face me directly. For the first time ever, he extends his hand like I'm an equal instead of someone to protect.
"Welcome to the real family business, Carmela."
I shake his hand, feeling the weight of what this means. Money, weapons, cousins—everything flowing through my word now instead of around me.
