Page 18 of Blood Debt

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I recognized none of them.

“They think you killed an officer that was sent down to investigate,” the informant added. “Australia. An undercover asset.”

My jaw ticked.

I glanced back at Matteo. “Did we?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “We’ve never touched law enforcement. Not even by accident.”

I closed the file.

“They don’t move on mafia cases lightly,” I said. “Someone wants this to stick.”

The informant swallows hard. “So…what do you want me to do?”

I looked him in the eye. “Nothing. Let them come. But I want to see who is coming. Make it easy for them. Give them an entry point.”

He hesitated. “A weak point in your house?”

“No. A believable point. Something just open enough to tempt. Just real enough to trust. But I want control over the narrative.”

He nodded slowly. “I can create an opening. Something that passes intel checks.”

I blink out of the memory, the room sharp again.

Over the speaker, the informant speaks low and steady.

“I forged the entry. I ran it through the Italian desk myself. An internal memo suggested a new staff rotation at your estate. I submitted a requisition—domestic staff, vetted background. They bit.”

I glance at Matteo. He leans forward slightly.

“The cop?” I ask. “Male or female?”

“Woman,” he replies. “One of their best. I can’t send out pictures. I’ll be caught.”

I nod. Her profile is enough; I just need a name. “You’ve done well.”

There’s a pause. Then the line clicks. Gone.

Matteo exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “This is a dangerous game.”

I push my chair back slowly. “What’s the point of a life without danger?”

The room is still humming with residual tension from the call when Matteo’s phone buzzes.

He checks it with a glance—then his brows draw together. A pause.

“What?” I ask, already bracing for another storm.

He lowers the phone slowly. “Your father’s summoning you.”

I blink. “He’s supposed to be asleep.”

Matteo nods grimly. “Yeah, about that…. He’s not in his room.”

I push up from the chair, the legs scraping softly against the hardwood. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs.”