Page 88 of Auctioned Innocence
What?
The Council oversees all the allied families—Irish, Italian, Russian, everyone.
Access at that level means this isn’t just about revenge.
“They’re not just after Sofia,” I realize, the pieces clicking into place. “They’re using her to start a war.”
“Gets worse. They’re painting the Renaldis as rogue operators. Claiming your rescue operation was unauthorized aggression against legitimate business partners.”
My vision edges red. “Businesspartners?”
“The auction house had diplomatic protection. Shell companies with ties to three different embassies. Officially, you just attacked international businessmen conducting a private art sale.”
Art sale. Christ.
“How long before?—”
“Council’s calling an emergency session. Two weeks, maybe three. Someone wants the Renaldis declared enemies of the peace, but they’re building a case first. Gathering evidence, lining up allies.”
A pause, then his voice drops lower. “And Dante? They’re doing systematic sweeps. Every property within 200 miles of the city. Grid by grid. Even off-the-books places won’t stay hidden long.”
I end the call, mind racing through implications.
They’ll mobilize everything—every family, every resource.
The Renaldis will be hunted by their own allies.
“How bad?” Sofia asks, reading my expression.
“Worse than bad.” I move back to the window, scanning for threats that could already be moving through the trees. “Someone’s trying to frame your family for starting a war. Using our rescue as evidence that the Renaldis have gone rogue.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, processing.
“We need to move again,” I say finally. “They’re doing systematic sweeps of every property in the region. Grid by grid. Even this place won’t stay hidden much longer.”
“Where?”
That’s the question.
Every safe house is compromised.
Every ally potentially turned enemy. We’re running out of places to hide.
“I’ll figure something out.” I check my weapons, count ammunition. Not enough. Never enough. “Get some rest while you can.”
“You need sleep too,” she argues, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at me. Christ, she’s so beautiful.
“Someone has to keep watch,” I counter, trying to ignore how soft and plump her lips are.
“Then we take turns.” Her voice carries that stubborn edge that means arguing is pointless. “Two hours each.”
Before I can protest, she’s already moving to the window, taking position with the natural competence that always surprises me.
Born for this life, even if she never asked for it.
I lie down fully clothed, gun within reach.
But sleep doesn’t come.
