Page 92 of Mafia Kingdom

"I should start preparing Lily," Sasha says, her mind already shifting to the practicalities. "She'll have questions. Concerns."

"Of course." I brush a strand of hair from her face, allowing myself this small moment of tenderness amid the strategic calculations that dominate my thoughts. "Take whatever time you need with her. The security arrangements will be handled."

She catches my hand, holding it against her cheek for a moment. "What happens after, Marco? If all of this works out—if you deal with your father, with the O'Reillys—what kind of life are we building?"

The question catches me off guard, not because I haven't considered it, but because I've deliberately avoided it.

"Whatever kind we choose," I say finally. "I'm not my father, Sasha. I never wanted this life to consume everything else, to become the only thing that matters. With you, I see...options. Possibilities I never allowed myself to consider before."

"Like what?" she presses gently, her eyes searching mine for the future she's risking everything to build.

I consider the question seriously, allowing myself to envision a life beyond the immediate crisis. "Balance," I say after a moment. "Your catering business flourishing. A home that's more than just a fortress. Time together that isn't stolen between crises."

Her eyes soften, a smile touching her lips. "I'd like that," she says simply. "All of it."

The moment stretches between us, this shared vision of a future that seems simultaneously so close and so distant. Then reality intrudes—Tony appears at the doorway with updates on the surveillance operation, security concerns that need immediate attention, the endless demands of leadership in crisis.

"Go," Sasha urges, seeing my reluctance to break this rare moment of peace. "Do what needs to be done. I'll talk to Lily, start preparing her for tomorrow."

I nod, already shifting back into the role of commander. But as I move to join Tony, to immerse myself once more in the brutal practicalities of our situation, I carry with me the image Sasha and I just created together—a future worth fighting for, worth surviving for.

A future I'm increasingly determined to claim, no matter what stands in our way.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Sasha

"BUT WHY CAN'T you come with us?" Lily's voice quavers slightly, her small face a picture of confusion and hurt as she watches me fold her clothes into a suitcase. "You said we'd stay together."

Each word is a dagger to my heart. I pause, setting down the sweater I've been folding, and sit beside her on the bed. "I know, Lil. And I meant it. This is just temporary, I promise."

She looks unconvinced, tears welling in her green eyes—so like mine, yet still holding an innocence I've long since lost. "That's what Dad said when Mom went to the hospital. 'Temporary.' But she never came back."

The comparison steals my breath for a moment. Of course, she would see it that way—the last time our family was separated, it became permanent in the most devastating way possible—no wonder she's terrified now.

"This is different," I assure her, pulling her against me in a tight hug. "I'm not sick, Lily. I'm staying to help Marco finish some very important business. Once it's done, I'll come straight to Kerry to be with you."

"What kind of business?" she asks, her natural curiosity momentarily overriding her fear. "Is it about the bad men who attacked the house?"

I hesitate, torn between honesty and protection. Lily deserves the truth, but how much can a nine-year-old possibly understand about mafia warfare and familial betrayal?

"Yes," I admit carefully. "Marco needs to make sure those men can't hurt us again. And I'm helping him."

She pulls back slightly, studying my face with surprising intensity for someone so young. "Because you love him," she states with the simple certainty of a child.

"Yes," I acknowledge, seeing no point in denying what she's clearly observed. "I do love him."

Lily nods, processing this. "Is he going to be my brother? Like, will you marry him?"

The question catches me completely off guard. Marriage? The thought has flitted through my mind in unguarded moments, but we're in the middle of a war, for God's sake. We haven't even had a proper conversation about long-term plans beyond vague references to a shared future.

"I don't know, Lil," I say honestly. "Maybe someday. Right now, we're just trying to keep everyone safe."

"I like him," she declares, apparently satisfied with this answer. "He's scary sometimes, but not to us. And he makes you smile like you used to before Mom died."

The observation—so insightful, so innocently delivered—brings an unexpected lump to my throat. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"Yep," she agrees without hesitation, some of her usual spark returning. "That's why you should listen to me and come to Kerry."

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