"Exactly." Marco nods grimly. "And based on how far they got before we stopped them, they know it's possible."
Vito slams the folder shut.
"I've added security to the Greenhouse,” Rafa remarks.
"No." Vito shakes his head before anyone can respond. "If my penthouse of all places is no longer safe, what makes you think a handful of extra soldiers at an already less guarded house will be any safer?"
"Woah." Rafa raises his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not the one you're mad at, brother. You're the one dragging things out at this point. All of this could have been avoided had we given them what they asked for a week ago."
"'Who' not 'what,'" I hiss, glaring at Rafa. "You're talking about a person—not a bag of cash."
Vito stops his pacing to narrow his eyes at me, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. The look is a warning, but I don't give a shit. I'm tired of everyone talking about Sofia like she's cargo.
"Regardless," I continue, keeping my voice level, "Vito is right. If his own place is no longer safe, neither is the Greenhouse."
"We need to keep their prize on the move," Marco jumps in.
Their prize.I repress the urge to punch something. Sofia is a person, not a goddamn trophy to be won.
"Say the word, boss, and I'll have any one of the safehouses ready within the hour."
Vito nods, his expression turning contemplative as he returns to pacing behind his desk. "Prepare all the land-locked safehouses. I don't want any water transport available if Sofia tries to make a run for it again."
Marco nods, slipping out of the room while pulling his phone out to make the required calls. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving just the three of us in the heavy silence.
"How long are you willing to let this go on?" Irritation colors Rafa's words as he looks at his brother in protest. "Just give them Sofia. Your wife will be pissed, but she'll move on. She seems to have forgiven you easily enough after killing her father."
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
"Her father was an abusive piece of shit who was trying to stage a coup against our family," Vito snaps. "Sofia's an innocent in all of this—as much as she's getting on all our nerves, she didn't deserve what her father did to her, and she doesn't deserve to be handed over to the Costellos."
"God, you've gone soft. Maybe Tomasso was right, and you don't know what you're doing." Rafa shouts, and I can see the exact moment he crosses the line. "One innocent to end the attacks, bombings, and bloodshed—fuck, Vittore, if Caterina makes that big of a fuss, it's easy enough to find another wife!"
Any ounce of professionalism drains from Vito's face as he storms across the room in just a couple of quick strides. A resounding crack echoes through the study as Vito's hand connects with his brother's face. Blood sprays from Rafa's nose as the back of Vito's hand snaps across his face again.
"Get. Out."
Rafa scrambles to his feet and books it out of the room, blood streaming down his chin. Smart move—I've seen Vito in this kind of rage before, and it doesn't end well for anyone in the blast radius.
Knuckles bloody, Vito moves back behind his desk, bracing his hands on the surface. Knowing better than to say something that might worsen his mood, I stand unmoving and silent, giving him time to compose himself. For the first time since I've known him, Vito looks nearly defeated as he hangs his head.
"Tell me there's nothing going on between you and Sofia." Dark shadows circle his eyes when he looks up at me.
The question catches me off guard, but I keep my expression neutral. "Aside from chasing after her every escape attempt? No, there's nothing more going on between Sofia and me."
"Just doing my due diligence." He grinds his teeth but nods. "You're to accompany the women to the safehouse and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Olga, Caterina, Elena, Gianna, Sofia—I want them all under watch at the safehouse. Take Luca and Enzo with you."
"Heard."
"Rina won't be happy. She'll want to stay with me," Vito mumbles, more to himself than to me, but I listen in case an order slips in somewhere. Which happens within seconds. "Make sure to stay on the move—don't stay at one location longer than three days. Make sure to stay?—"
"—inconspicuous," I finish. "We'll stagger the women's transport and bring soldiers in each vehicle. We'll leave half of the best here and bring half with us, so you still have ample protection."
Vito nods, slight relief evident as his shoulders drop. "Thank you, Dante."
The words hit differently than they usually do. Instead of the satisfaction I normally feel when Vito acknowledges my service, there's something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.
My loyalty is to Don Vito.
