Page 98 of Toxic

Stunned, I stare at my father. It's highly likely they'll see an Abruzzo if guarding the northern or southern point. I blurt out, "I thought you didn't want an all-out war?"

He spins, scowling. The darkness swirls in his eyes, darting into me. "We won't have one if they're rats."

"And if they aren't?"

"It's a risk we're going to need to take to keep our house clean."

"We could be putting all four of them in a war zone."

"Your point?" Papà questions.

"What if only one or two of them are Abruzzos and the others aren't? We're putting our men in the line of fire with no backup," Massimo interjects.

Papà snaps, "Of course there will be backup. You and Tristano will take our sharpshooters with you. Understand?"

Tristano cracks his knuckles. "Let the games begin."

"This isn't a joke!" my father fumes.

Tristano holds up his hands. "Easy!"

"You two need to grow up!"

Massimo groans. "Here we go again."

"Shut up!" I order.

Both my younger brothers glare at me.

A moment passes with pressure building in the air. My nerves hum with an uneasiness. War isn't something my father ever advocates. He's usually warning us not to make any moves that will start one.

"Anything else? Or are we done here?" Massimo asks.

Papà scrutinizes us further then finally replies, "Go do your jobs."

We all leave the room. Massimo and Tristano split. Gianni pulls me to the corner, grinding his molars, saying, "If we have traitors on our hands, it's our fault."

Guilt and disappointment fill me. I want to claim it's impossible, but there doesn't seem to be any other answers. This was Gianni's and my task to execute with one hundred percent precision. There was no room to mess up. If we let Abruzzos in our house, we put more targets on our family's back. I admit, "I don't think it's an if."

Gianni's eyes turn to black flames of rage. He glances toward the fading daylight. "Time isn't on our side right now. Let's get ready and go."

We part, each going to our wings of the house. I quickly replace my suit with black sweats, a matching hoodie, and sneakers. When I grab my leather gloves, my phone buzzes.

"Shit," I mutter, glancing at the alarm on my screen to pick up Sean. I swipe at the notification then call Bridget.

"Hey," she answers.

I smile, as I usually do whenever I hear her voice. "Hey, dolcezza. What are you doing?"

"Waiting outside school. If I went home, I'd have to turn around and come right back for Fiona. So I'm twiddling my thumbs in the car, debating about what to wear to dinner tonight."

My stomach flips. I hate that I'm going to let Sean down. I've not missed any of our sessions, and I genuinely look forward to them. I also had a date planned with Bridget. I haven't seen her for a few days. Ever since we got past the Sean boxing issue, I felt a wall come down. It's one of the few times I gave her a heads-up about taking her out and trusted she'd say yes. I take a deep breath and state, "Bridge, something has come up for work. It isn't something I can push off. I hate to do this, but I won't be able to pick Sean up or take you out tonight."

She tries to hide her disappointment, but I hear it and cringe. "Oh. Okay. No problem."

"Bridge—"

"It's okay. Will you be safe?"

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