Page 36 of Last Hand

“Sienna’s marrying Volkov?” my father asks.

Milo nods. “Dominic made the deal. Said it’s binding.”

“And she’s half a world away,” Milo mutters. “Which means she’s got no one to stop it.” I peer over at Rocco who is glaring at the floor.

I know he regrets not asking. I saw the look on Rocco’s face when he found out. He’s not going to let that go.

My father snorts, walking back toward the bar.

“Your women sure know how to pick their poison, don’t they?”

I glare at him. “They don’t pick. That’s the problem.”

He raises his glass in mock salute. “Some things can’t be helped.” I shake my head, wondering how he can believe that after seeing my mother suffer just now.

“That’s why the next generation rewrites the rules,” I add.

“Assuming you get Fallon back,” my father says.

He moves to the doorway, then pauses.

“You want my help? I still have ties. Old allies of the Romanovs who turned their backs when Anatoly fell. I can stir the ashes. Maybe find someone who wants to see Mikhail fall.”

“Do it,” I say. “And find me everything you can about Penso. We need to make sure once I kill Mikhail, there won’t be any other illegitimate kids of Anatoly’s coming for blood.”

He nods once. “I’ll find out what I can.”

Then he’s gone.

Once the door closes, Rocco clears his throat, making me jump while I make my way over to my mother. She stares off vacantly and I crouch beside her gripping her knees. She startles, looking at me.

Mama?” I ask softly. “Are you okay?” She blinks, her eyes focusing on me, her eyes, so like mine yet so distant for so many years. There’s a universe of pain in them, a history I’m only just beginning to comprehend.

A small, sad smile touches her lips. “I have to be. I will be.” She reaches out, her hand trembling as she cups my cheek. “Don’t be like him, figlio mio. Please.” Her plea hits me harder as she gestures the sign of the cross on her chest.

“I won’t, I try not to be,” I whisper, my voice thick.

Her gaze drifts to the doorway where my father disappeared. “He always said he loved me,” she murmurs then sighs heavily.

“He does, in his way,” I say, though the words taste like ash. “It’s just… not the right way.”

“Is there a right way to love someone?”

“I think so,” I say, my own words a revelation. “It’s about wanting what’s best for them, even if it’s not what’s best for you. It’s about… letting them choose.” The words hang in the air, a promise to myself as much as an answer to her. She searches my face, then nods slowly.

“Then be better than him, Leone. Be better than all of this.” Her hand drops from my cheek, and she seems to shrink back into herself, the brief spark of fight dimming.

“You know I have to kill him, right?”

My voice is quiet, steady. The moment the words land, I see her brace like I’ve hit her.

“Dante…” she says, her lips barely moving.

I nod. “You know how this works. You grew up in this life; you’ve been with Dad long enough to understand the cost of mercy. If I let this go… I’ll look weak. And if I look weak, everything falls apart. This life only holds if the man at the top holds everyone accountable. Even when it’s blood.”

She doesn’t try to stop me. Doesn’t plead.

Just closes her eyes for a moment, like she’s bracing against a wave she can’t outrun.

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