Page 68 of Mafia Kingdom

"Fine," I say, keeping my tone neutral despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "But my regular security stays in place as well."

"Of course," Father agrees, too readily. "Consider Michael an addition, not a replacement. For everyone's safety."

The call ends, leaving me with the distinct impression that I've just been outmaneuvered in a game whose rules keep changing. Father sending Michael—his most loyal enforcer—to "protect" Sasha feels less like support and more like surveillance, perhaps even a subtle threat.

I stare out the window as evening approaches, watching shadows lengthen across the manicured grounds. Security patrols move with practiced precision along the perimeter, theweight of their weapons visible even from this distance. The estate has always been a fortress, but now it feels like the walls are closing in, threats gathering both outside and within.

My phone buzzes again—a text from Tony:Michael arrived. Awaiting instructions.

Sooner than expected. Father must have dispatched him immediately after our call, another small power play to assert his control over the situation.

I text back:Standard protocol. Keep eyes on him.

Tony's response is immediate:Understood, Boss.

I trust Tony implicitly—one of the few men whose loyalty I never question. But even he can only do so much against Father's direct intervention. If Patrick Walsh has decided to take a more active interest in my affairs, in Sasha, the delicate balance I've been maintaining could collapse entirely.

A gentle knock at the door draws my attention. Sasha enters without waiting for permission, a habit that would earn anyone else a harsh reprimand but from her seems entirely natural.

"Karen and Lily are settled," she reports, crossing the room to stand beside me at the window. "Lily's thrilled about having a room 'bigger than our whole house.' Karen is..." She hesitates. "Less enthusiastic."

"Understandable," I acknowledge. "It's a lot to process."

Sasha studies my face with the uncanny perception that still catches me off guard. "Something's happened. What is it?"

I consider deflecting, keeping her separate from the brewing conflict with my father as I've kept her from so many aspects of my business. But the time for such divisions has passed. If she's truly mine, as she claimed, then she deserves to understand the entirety of what that entails—including the complications of Walsh family politics.

"My father is sending Michael to oversee security for you and your family," I explain, watching her reaction carefully. "He'll be here while I attend a meeting with the O'Reillys tomorrow."

Her brow furrows. "Michael—the older man with the scarred face? The one who works directly for your father?"

I nod, impressed by her attention to detail. "Yes."

"Why? Don't you trust your own security team?"

"I do. Which is why Michael's arrival concerns me." I turn to face her fully. "My father rarely does anything without multiple motives. Sending Michael here, insisting I attend the O'Reilly meeting with Gerald—he's making moves on a chessboard I can't fully see yet."

Sasha absorbs this, her expression thoughtful. "You think he sees me as a threat to his control over you."

"Yes," I admit. "And he's not entirely wrong."

She looks surprised by the frank acknowledgment. "What do you mean?"

I take her hands in mine, needing her to understand. "Before you, every decision I made was for the family, for the business, for the legacy my father built. Now..." I struggle to articulate the profound shift she's created. "Now, I find myself considering a future beyond all that. Possibilities I never allowed myself to imagine."

"Marco," she whispers, eyes wide with the implications.

"It terrifies me," I confess, the admission raw and honest. "Not just because it makes us vulnerable to our enemies, but because I don't know how to be anything other than what I've always been. A Walsh. A soldier in my father's war."

Sasha touches my face gently, her palm warm against my cheek. "You're more than that," she says with quiet certainty. "You always have been. That's why your father worries. He seesin you the potential to break free of the path he laid out—the strength to choose something different."

I cover her hand with mine, turning to press a kiss to her palm. "And if I'm not strong enough? If this life is all I'm capable of?"

"Then we face it together," she says simply. "But we both know that's not true. You're capable of so much more than violence and control, Marco. I've seen it, even if you haven't let yourself acknowledge it yet."

The faith in her voice—unshakable, despite everything she knows about me, everything she's witnessed—stuns me into momentary silence. This woman, who entered my world through violence and coercion, who has seen the darkest aspects of my nature, still believes there's something in me worth salvaging. Worth loving.

I pull her to me, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent like a drowning man gasping for air. She wraps her arms around me, holding me with a fierceness that matches my own.

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