Page 185 of Sinful Honor

His eyes bore into mine, shimmering with determination and a challenge.

I swallowed hard, keeping my surging anger in check.

“Consider it a taste of what’s to come because the second she’s unhappy, I will kill you.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his threat settle heavily in my chest.

I had no doubt he meant every single word. I would have to make damn sure to keep Sophie happy—not that I wouldn’t do that anyway.

But the added incentive didn’t hurt.

Craig’s gaze shifted away from me, a sudden weariness etching the lines on his face. “Talking about potential threats to my daughter’s happiness, I heard about the shoot-down in her hospital room with Salvatore Moretti.”

His words sent a jolt of surprise through me. But I schooled my features and played it close to the vest.

Salvatore Moretti’s death at the hands of Fausto Falcone had caused some waves—despite us trying to control the narrative of what had happened.

I’d tried—unsuccessfully—to establish contact with the Morettis, as well. However, my priority these days had been Sophie’s well-being. “What have you heard?”

Craig chuckled. “Just the play-by-play of Fausto Falcone killing Salvatore Moretti.” He stared at me, gauging my reaction.

I didn’t give him the pleasure. “And?”

“And now the Moretti clan is gunning for retribution.”

“Fausto is dead.”

Craig smiled and cocked his head. “As if that would solve the issue. You crazy Italians and your crazy sense of family and honor.”

Now it was my time to give him an evil lopsided grin. “You’re part of the family now.”

He groaned. “Not something to joke about.” Then he turned serious. “There are also some rumors floating around about your brother Alessandro being Salvatore Moretti’s firstborn—and hence the rightful heir to the Moretti family.”

I continued my stare. “Seems like you’re becoming well-versed in Italian-Mafia internal politics—or gossip.”

He nodded. “Trust me. Much more than I’d like.”

Because of Sophie. He didn’t need to say it, but having Sophie as my wife would mean a shift of power.

An alliance between the Falcone family and the Donnelly’s.

An alliance between the Italian and Irish Mafia.

Unheard of until today.

“Alessandro is a Falcone—unless he decides otherwise,” I said.

“And when he decides he’s a Moretti?” Craig muttered, his voice low. He leaned in, fixating me with his stare. “There will be a power struggle for the next head of the Moretti family erupting.” He sighed and shook his head. “So, it’s either straight-up retribution, or they’re gunning for his head. Either way, Alessandro better watch his back. There’s a war coming, and he won’t be able to hide.” His gaze hardened. “Not even in Malta.”

I blinked, my mind racing as I processed the information. How did Craig know where Alessandro was? But more importantly, what would this mean for my brother, and for our family?

I couldn’t leave him alone right now.

Never leave your wingman. “Thanks for the perfect summary of our current situation,” I muttered, my thoughts already spinning with plans and contingencies.

Whatever lay ahead, I wouldn’t, couldn’t let him face it alone. We were a family, a united front.

But I couldn’t shake Donnelly’s words—Alessandro was in danger, and I had to act.

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