Page 93 of Mafia Kingdom

I laugh despite myself, grateful for the moment of lightness amid so much darkness. "Nice try. But you know I need to stay."

She sighs dramatically, the sound far too world-weary for her years. "Fine. But you have to promise you'll call every day. And you can't get hurt. And you have to come as soon as the business is finished."

"I promise," I say solemnly, holding up my pinky finger for our traditional pact. "Pinky swear."

She links her finger with mine, sealing the agreement with all the gravity such childhood rituals deserve. "Buddy's coming with me, right?"

"Of course," I confirm, relieved that she's moved on to practical questions. "He'll keep you company, and you'll keep him safe."

This framing—giving Lily responsibility for Buddy's well-being—is deliberate, a strategy to help her feel empowered rather than victimized by the situation. Based on the way she straightens her shoulders slightly, it's working.

"I'll take good care of him," she promises. "And Aunt Karen, too."

The mention of Karen brings a different kind of worry to mind. My aunt has been uncharacteristically quiet since the attack, moving through preparations for their departure with mechanical efficiency but little emotional engagement. The shock of the violence, the realization of just how deep I've become entangled in Marco's world—it's a lot for anyone to process, let alone someone who has lived her entire life in relative normalcy.

"Speaking of Aunt Karen, why don't you go check and see if she needs help packing?" I suggest, needing a moment alone to collect myself. "I'll finish up here."

Lily nods and hops off the bed.. At the door, she pauses, turning back with sudden seriousness. "You'll be careful, right? You won't let the bad men hurt you?"

"I'll be very careful," I promise, forcing confidence into my voice. "Marco won't let anything happen to me."

This seems to satisfy her, and she disappears down the hallway, Buddy trotting faithfully at her heels. I resume packing, mechanically folding clothes while my mind races with everything that remains unsaid, unresolved.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to find Marco standing in the doorway, his expression softening as he takes in the scene.

"How's she taking it?" he asks, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

"Better than expected, worse than hoped," I answer honestly. "She's scared, but she's trying to be brave."

Marco nods, understanding without further explanation. "And Karen?"

"Processing. Withdrawn." I sigh, closing the suitcase and turning to face him fully. "She hasn't said much since the attack. I think it's all finally sinking in—what my involvement with you really means, the dangers it brings."

"She's not wrong to be concerned," he acknowledges, a shadow passing over his face. "Last night proved how high the stakes are."

"I know." I meet his gaze steadily, wanting him to understand that my position hasn't changed despite the escalating dangers. "But I've made my choice, Marco. I'm not second-guessing it."

He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "The surveillance team has confirmed both Gerald and my father are at the O'Reilly compound. We're finalizing plans for an operation."

The information lands with the weight of inevitability. "When?"

"Tomorrow night," he says, watching my reaction carefully. "We move as soon as Lily and Karen are safely away."

I absorb this timeline, mentally calculating what needs to be done before then. "What kind of operation?"

Marco hesitates, clearly weighing how much to share. "It's not a direct assault," he says finally. "The compound is too well fortified, and they'll be expecting that approach after last night. We're planning something more...strategic."

"Meaning?"

"We've identified a vulnerability in their security system," he explains, his tone shifting to the clinical precision I've come to recognize as his tactical mode. "An opportunity to get a small team inside undetected. The goal is to extract Gerald—he's the key to everything. With him in our custody, we can verify the extent of my father's involvement and force the O'Reillys to the negotiating table."

The plan sounds cleaner than I expected, more surgical than the all-out warfare of the previous night. "And if Gerald won't cooperate? If your father resists?"

Marco's expression hardens. "Then we adapt. But let's be clear, Sasha—this ends tomorrow night, one way or another. I won't allow the threat to hang over us indefinitely."

The certainty in his voice is both reassuring and terrifying. I move to him, placing my hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. "I want to be there," I say, the words emerging before I can fully consider their implications.

He stiffens. "Absolutely not. We've already discussed this—"

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