Page 118 of Pietro
"My issue's with all of you." But Declan's focus locks onto her like a targeting laser. "Especially you though Nora."
"I know what you are." Her voice carries zero fear. "A coward who uses children as shields."
Declan's face darkens. "Watch your tongue, bitch."
My hand moves to my weapon. "Call her that again and this negotiation ends with bullets."
"Easy, boys." Lorenzo's tone cuts through. "We're here to trade. Michael for territory. Simple business."
"Territory?" Declan's attention shifts. "What territory?"
"Dock access." I force the words out. "Pier forty-seven. Shared usage for Irish shipments."
The offer costs us millions monthly, but Michael's life and whoever's else over this endless war outweighs money. Declan considers, still gripping the boy's collar.
Besides, I'll kill him once I have the chance to have him not holding a child and Nora being close.
"Pier forty-seven. No interference from Sartori operations?" He asks.
"None."
"And the loading crews?"
"Yours to manage."
He studies my face, searching for the trap. There isn't one. Just a child who needs saving and a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
"Deal. The documentation." Declan extends his hand.
I pull the folded papers from my jacket. Contracts, manifests, dock schedules. Everything he needs for legitimate-looking operations. Lorenzo worked them up. Ironclad and legal.
The exchange happens in the middle ground. Declan takes the papers, examines them under his phone's light. His smile returns, colder than before.
Declan shoves Michael forward. "Go on, boy."
Michael runs. He runs, his small legs a blur across the concrete, stumbling but never stopping. Tony opens his arms just as his grandson crashes on him, both of them sobbing.
"Perfect." He backs toward his men.
"Oh, and Nora?" Declan pauses, turning back with that smile that makes my trigger finger itch. "Betraying your blood like this? Never thought you had it in you."
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. The gun at my hip burns against my palm, begging to be drawn.
"Connor raised you better than that." He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Your mother would be spinning in her grave, knowing her daughter's spreading her legs for the enemy."
The world goes red at the edges. My hand moves?—
"Easy." Lorenzo's voice cuts through the rage, low enough only I hear it. His hand brushes my arm, a warning. "Not yet."
Every muscle in my body coils tight, ready to spring. To tear Declan apart with my bare hands for daring to speak about her that way. For using her mother against her.
Nora stands perfectly still beside me, but I feel the tremor run through her. The way her breathing changes, shallow and quick. She's fighting not to react, not to give him the satisfaction.
"What's the matter, mo stór?" Declan uses the Irish endearment like a weapon, twisting something that should be tender into something vile. "Cat got your tongue? Or does Sartori do all your talking now?"
"Pietro." Lorenzo's grip tightens on my arm. "We need to leave. Alive."
The word penetrates the haze. Alive. We're outnumbered, outpositioned. Declan's men have the high ground, better cover. If I move now, we all die. Including her.
