"I know what I’m doing," I said.
"Do you?" Declan moved closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re thinking with your cock instead of your head."
The insult hung in the air like a loaded gun. I felt my control slip, that predatory instinct that had kept me alive all these yearsrising to the surface. Declan was pushing boundaries, testing limits, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Careful, brother," I said softly, and somehow, that quiet tone was more threatening than any shout could have been. "This isn’t the first time you’re insinuating this, but it better be your last."
But Declan didn’t back down. If anything, he seemed energized by the confrontation, his eyes bright with something that looked like anticipation. "I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. The boys are starting to talk, Roman. They’re wondering if their boss has gone soft."
"The boys can wonder all they want. I’m still in charge."
"Are you?" His head tilted slightly, like a predator sizing up prey. "Because if you can’t make the hard choices anymore, if you can’t do what needs to be done..."
The threat was implicit but clear. Declan was questioning my fitness to lead, planting seeds of doubt that could grow into full-scale rebellion if I wasn’t careful. But there was something else in his tone, something that made my instincts scream warnings I couldn’t quite identify.
My mind flashed back to Anton—my former right hand, the man I’d trusted above all others. Anton had been charming, intelligent, and absolutely loyal. Right up until the moment he’d sold me out to the Torrino family during the bloodiest turf war in the city’s history.
I’d walked into what should have been a peace negotiation and found myself facing fifteen armed men instead of three. Only Connor’s quick thinking and quicker trigger finger had kept me alive long enough to fight my way out. But not before I’d taken abullet to the shoulder and watched two of my best men die in the crossfire.
It had taken me three months to track Anton down. Three months of careful investigation, patient surveillance, and methodical elimination of his allies. When I finally found him holed up in a safe house in Queens, he’d begged for his life. Claimed he’d been coerced, threatened, forced into betrayal.
I’d put two bullets in his head, anyway.
Because trust, once broken, could never be fully repaired. And in my world, broken trust was a terminal disease that infected everything it touched.
Now, looking at Declan’s carefully controlled expression, I felt that same cold certainty settling in my chest. Something wasn’t right. The subtle challenges to my authority, the way he seemed almost eager to sow discord—it all added up to a picture I didn’t like.
But I couldn’t act on suspicion alone. Not yet.
"I appreciate your concern," I said, injecting just enough steel into my voice to make my position clear. "But Cassie isn’t the problem here. The mole is someone who’s been with us longer, someone with deeper access to our operations."
Declan’s smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. "If you say so. But Roman? When this blows up in your face—and it will—remember that I warned you."
He started to turn away, but I caught his arm. "Declan?"
"Yeah?"
"Find the real mole. And when you do, bring them to me alive. I want to look them in the eye before I put them in the ground."
Something flickered across his features—too quick to identify, but it set my teeth on edge. "Of course. You’ll have your answers soon enough."
He left without another word, and I found myself alone with my whiskey and my doubts. Through the security monitors, I could see Cassie in the kitchen, making coffee with the kind of unconscious grace that made my chest tighten. She looked small in the massive space, vulnerable in a way that made every protective instinct I possessed roar to life.
How exposed she was in a world I couldn’t fully control.
That was the real problem—not whether she was the mole, but how completely defenseless she was against the forces gathering around us. Cassie was brilliant and strong-willed, but she didn’t understand the rules of this game. She didn’t know how to read the subtle signs of betrayal, how to identify the wolves hiding among the sheep.
And if something happened to her because of my enemies, because of my failure to protect her...
The thought made my blood run cold.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through the contacts until I found the number I needed. Fion O’Brien answered on the second ring.
"Boss."
"I need a favor, Fion. I need more men covering the perimeter. Personal security detail. The best you have."
"How soon?"