"He was planting listening devices," Connor said quietly, watching over Tommy’s shoulder. "Feeding real-time intelligence to our enemies. Tommy’s analysis shows this goes back months. Maybe years."
My mind raced through conversations, decisions, moments when Declan had been perfectly positioned to gather intelligence or influence my choices. The subtle suggestions to step back from operations. The way he’d pushed for Sean’s execution. The careful way he’d sown doubt about Cassie.
"Son of a bitch," I breathed.
"There’s more." Tommy pulled up another screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Back-channel communications with Marina, Anton’s sister. Payments from the Torrino family." He turned in his chair to look at me directly. "Boss, Declan hasn’t just been selling us out—he’s been orchestrating our destruction from the inside."
Connor’s hand tightened on Tommy’s shoulder. "The kid’s been working non-stop for three days to piece this together. I couldn’t have done this without him."
I stared at the evidence, feeling something cold and lethal settle in my chest. Declan. The man I’d trusted above all others. My consigliere, my advisor, the person who’d stood by my side through every crisis.
He’d been planning my downfall from the beginning.
"How long have you known?" I asked.
"Tommy brought me his initial findings three days ago," Connor said, his voice carrying the weight of regret. "I started suspecting after Sean’s execution—something about the evidence felt tooclean, too convenient. But I needed to be certain before I came to you. Accusing your right-hand man of treason isn’t something you do lightly."
Tommy nodded, still typing. "Connor taught me to triple-check everything when it comes to accusations like this. We’ve been working around the clock to verify every piece of data."
Memories crashed over me like waves. Declan’s warnings about trusting outsiders. His suggestions that I was becoming weak, distracted. The way he’d positioned himself as the voice of reason while systematically undermining my authority.
Every piece of advice, every show of loyalty, every moment of apparent concern—it had all been manipulation.
"The ambush at the warehouse," I said, the pieces clicking into place. "He knew we were walking into a trap."
"He planned it. Marina and the Torrinos were supposed to kill you, then Declan would step in as the logical replacement. Clean up the mess, restore order, negotiate new territory agreements."
The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. This wasn’t just about money or power—this was personal. Declan had eaten at my table, had stood as witness at family funerals, and had sworn oaths of loyalty that meant nothing.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"At the estate, last I checked. Roman—" Connor caught my arm as I turned toward the door. "Be smart about this. Declan is dangerous precisely because he knows how you think, how you operate. He’s been studying you for years."
"This stays between us," I said. "No one else hears about this until I decide how to handle it."
Connor nodded. "What are you going to do?"
I thought about Cassie, about the life growing inside her, about the future I wanted to build that didn’t include looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
"I’m going to end this," I said simply.
My mind raced through possibilities, scenarios, ways to handle a traitor who knew all my secrets and commanded the loyalty of half my men. Declan was smart, careful, and patient. He wouldn’t be easy to take down.
But everyone had weaknesses. Everyone made mistakes.
I was pacing the bunker’s hallway for the third time when I realized what mine had been.
I’d trusted him.
I pulled out my phone, needing to hear Cassie’s voice, needing the reassurance that she was safe while I figured out how to handle the snake in our midst.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
"Roman." Cassie’s voice was tight with tension. "Something’s wrong."
"What do you mean?"
