Page 132 of Pietro
"Tomorrow. Eleven-thirty arrival. We coordinate on encrypted channels." I drain the whiskey in one burning swallow. "Connor—if this is a setup?—"
"It's not." For the first time, Connor O'Sullivan sounds tired. Old. "Despite what you might think, I do love my daughter. I failed her when she needed me most. It's not enough, but it's what I can do."
The line disconnects. I stare at the phone, processing this shift in the game board.
"He means it," Finn says quietly. "Connor never admitted a mistake in his life until today."
"Lorenzo." I turn to my brother. "Get Liam. Tell him to pick eight men. Former military if possible. Full tactical gear."
"You're really doing this? Trusting O'Sullivan?"
"I'm trusting that his rage matches mine." I move to the window, staring out at the compound grounds. "Call Nico. I want building blueprints for that warehouse. Every entrance, every window, every rat hole."
Lorenzo disappears down the hall. Finn stands, preparing to leave.
"She chose you," he says softly. "That means something."
"She chose sacrifice. That's what O'Sullivans do, isn't it? Bleed for family?"
"No." Finn meets my eyes. "She chose love. That's what Siobhan's daughter would do."
He leaves me alone with my rage and my whiskey and the phantom of Nora's broken voice.
I press my palms flat on the desk, feeling the blood from my shredded knuckles seep into the Italian wood. Declan thinks he's won. He's wrong.
The desk phone rings. Lorenzo's voice comes through the intercom. "Liam's here."
"Send him up."
I straighten my tie, roll my shoulders back.
Time to plan a war.
Liam enters with his tablet, already pulling up satellite images. Nico arrives a moment later, arms full of paper blueprints. We spread them across the desk, the smell of ink and old paper mixing with whiskey.
"Giulia wants to know if you'll eat," Lorenzo says. "You haven't had a meal in two days."
"After."
"Pietro—"
"After I have Nora back." I turn back to the blueprints. "Liam, I want our men in position by eleven. Full communication blackout until we're ready to breach."
"The O'Sullivans?"
"Will do what they came to do—kill Declan's men. We focus on extraction. Getting Nora out clean is the only priority."
"What about Declan himself?" Nico asks.
I pull my father's old Beretta from the desk drawer, check the action with practiced ease. "Declan's mine."
My mind keeps circling back to Nora's voice. The pain threaded through her defiance. Three snapped fingers. For me.
"Pietro." Finn reappears in the doorway, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. "You should know something."
I wave him in, too exhausted for more revelations.
"Connor called again. Privately." Finn sets the coffee on my desk. "He wanted me to tell you something off the record."
