Page 338 of Legacy
By the time I pull up to his estate, Amelia, Santo’s house keeper, is already at the door like she’s been waiting. She doesn’t speak. Just opens it, that worn softness in her face folding in on itself. She helped raise us both. She sees the truth before I speak it. Eyes glassy, hand tight around the edge of the door like she’s bracing herself for another funeral.
I nod once, then step inside.
Santo’s office door is closed. I knock once.
It buzzes open.
I push through and there they are, my brother behind his desk, Vasilisa standing beside him, her fingers gripping the edge of the wood like she’s trying not to fall apart.
“I’m going,” I say. The words leave my mouth fast. Sharp. Like a blade thrown mid-air.
Santo straightens. Vasilisa’s brows draw in immediately and she leaves the room, brushing by me.
Santo’s eyes follow her before landing back on me.
“You can’t just go,” he says. “It’s an obvious trap. It’s a shipping yard warehouse in the East District. Abandoned, but active enough for cover. Stacked crates everywhere. One main entrance, two catwalk exits, skylights, plenty of places to nest snipers. Thermal scans picked up movement twenty minutes ago. They’re setting up positions.”
He already did the work. Of course he did.
“I’m not walking in blind,” I say quietly. “I’m walking in willing.”
Santo shakes his head. “There’s no guarantee they’ll keep her alive, even if you do what they ask.”
“I’m bringing Nico with me,” I explain. “He’ll stay hidden. As soon as they hand her off, he takes her out. Gets her safe.”
Santo’s jaw works. He knows what I’m saying.
“I need you to take over as Don.”
His eyes snap to mine. “No.”
“She’s my wife,” I continue. “This is the only card I’ve got left to play. I’m not leaving her out there. And I’m not risking the family falling apart when I don’t come back.”
“I don’t want it,” he bites out. “I’veneverwanted it.”
“I know,” I murmur. “But Cosa Nostra belongs to the Amatos. It always has. And I trust you. You won’t be like dad or me. You’ll lead it the right way.”
His lips part, like he wants to argue again, but nothing comes out.
He glances at the screen in front of him. The warehouse. The thermal scans. The danger laid out in heat signatures and red dots. Then he looks back at me.
“There’s another way,” he says. “We can set a trap. You draw them out, and we hit from the perimeter. I’ve already pulled two ZEUS teams. We can work this, Angelo. We can get her back without sacrificing you.”
I look at him.
Pointed.
Still.
And ask, “If it were Vasilisa?”
He stills.
His chest rises once. His hand flexes once on the edge of the desk. Then he breathes.
“Nothing would stop me.”
We don’t say anything else.
