Chapter 122: Riley

Sofia’s asleep on the couch, her head nestled against the armrest, her breathing soft and steady. I can’t stop staring. She’d eaten so much at dinner, finally looking like herself again—laughing, joking, taking bite after bite like she’d been starved for days. And honestly, she had been. When Moretti had her, she barely ate; Cole told us the stress and the early pregnancy made it impossible for her to keep food down. She’d lost weight, looking so fragile, like any wrong move would break her. But now, watching her here, her face peaceful, I feel a warmth settle in my chest.

The news had shocked her, for sure. But she’d said she was happy about the baby. And that tiny confession had been enough to light a fire in all of us. We told her we’d support whatever decision she made, but deep down, I already knew what I wanted.

I want this baby. I want to see her belly grow, to see her laugh when she feels those first little kicks, to watch her become a mom. I picture it, clear as day—her holding a tiny baby wrapped up in soft blankets, a mini her or maybe a little boy with her eyes and that same quiet strength she doesn’t even realize she has.

This feels like a second chance, a way out of the life we’ve been tied to for so long. The noise, the constant fighting, the endless risks. A dream I thought I’d never be able to reach. But here she is, right in front of me, the possibility of a life I never thought I’d have, asleep and safe, a quiet reminder that maybe, just maybe, we can finally have something real.

I reach down, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, feeling the softness of it against my fingers. The thought of a little one running around, laughing, filling up every corner of the house with their energy and joy… it’s a life I’d give anything for. I want to be there, to watch her grow, to hold onto this tiny piece of her we’ve already fallen in love with.

I lean back, letting my head rest on the couch as I watch her sleep, feeling the weight of all these hopes settle over me. This isn’t just a chance at family—it’s a chance at forever.

Just then, my phone buzzes with the familiar ping from the cameras—someone’s on the property, moving around near the front door. I frown, a bit annoyed but not overly concerned. This thing goes off anytime someone gets close. Could be the mail, a package delivery, or maybe even a stray dog. I put my phone back in my pocket and glance around just as Nate appears from down the hall, his hair still wet from the shower, towel slung over his shoulder.

He raises an eyebrow, holding up his phone with the same notification. “You see this?”

“Yeah,” I nod, taking one last look at Sofia, sound asleep on the couch, blissfully unaware. She’s out cold from the big meal, her face finally peaceful, and I can’t help but feel that urge to keep it that way.

“Probably nothing,” I say as Nate and I head for the door, both of us grabbing our guns and tucking them into the waistbands of our jeans, more out of habit than anything else. Just a precaution. We’ve been through enough to know better than to ignore any potential risk, but right now, it’s all low-key.

“Mail, maybe,” Nate shrugs, exchanging a small grin with me. “Or Danny’s late-night impulse buys.”

I chuckle, giving the door handle a gentle pull. 

As Nate swings open the door, expecting nothing more than a late delivery, the smell hits us first. Metallic, raw, and unmistakable. My stomach turns, and for a second, I think my mind’s playing tricks on me.

But then I see it.

There, on the doormat, is a head. Not just any head—it’s Marco, one of our own. His eyes are wide, frozen in shock, his mouth open as if his last breath was stolen mid-scream. The work is sloppy, hurried, like someone didn’t care to be precise, just wanted to make a point. The skin is jagged, almost torn, like they couldn’t be bothered to do anything but finish the job. Nate takes a step back, and for a second, neither of us says a word, too stunned to process what’s in front of us.

“What the—” I mutter, the words strangled in my throat. “_What the fuck?_”

Nate’s face goes pale, and he pulls his gun without another word, instincts kicking in. He dashes down the steps, scanning the shadows around us, the silence so thick I can feel it pressing down on us. The night is still, too still, as if even the air knows something’s horribly wrong.

I grip my own gun tightly, every nerve on edge as I follow him out, eyes darting to every corner, every dark space that might be hiding whoever—or whatever—did this. Whoever dropped Marco’s head here did it fast, in a rush, almost like they were in and out in seconds. My heart pounds, the adrenaline mixing with anger and horror, and a chill runs down my spine.

“See anything?” I hiss, glancing around, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Nate shakes his head, his eyes locked on the shadows stretching across the lawn. "Nothing. Whoever did this wanted to be seen, wanted us to know they're close."

The realization hits me hard. They’re watching us—maybe they still are.

Nate and I step back inside, shutting the door quietly behind us, and for a second, we both just stand there, absorbing what we’ve just seen. My mind’s spinning, trying to grasp the reality of it, to make sense of the brutality. I look over at Nate, his jaw clenched tight, his face pale but focused. We both know what this means.

“Let’s get the others,” I whisper, jerking my head toward the hallway.

We move down the hall as quietly as we can, keeping close to the wall so we don’t make a sound near the living room where Sofia’s still asleep. She looks so peaceful, completely oblivious to the nightmare sitting on our doorstep. I’m not about to let that change. Whatever this is, she doesn’t need to see it.

In the kitchen, Cole, Danny, and Leo are scattered, cleaning up the remains of dinner. They look up the moment we walk in, each one picking up on the tension immediately. Cole tilts his head, brows knitting. “What’s going on?”

I glance at Nate, who nods, and I take a breath before laying it out. “Marco’s head was left on the front step,” I say, the words heavy, each one hitting like a blow.

Silence. For a second, no one moves, their expressions frozen in shock. Then Danny curses, running a hand through his hair as his face twists in a grimace.

“It’s him,” Danny says, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. “Moretti. He’s alone, no one to help him, no crew left. And now he’s furious. He’s got nothing left to lose.” He pauses, his voice dropping. “He’s unhinged. That makes him a whole lot more dangerous.”

Cole’s expression shifts, and he glances down the hall toward where Sofia’s sleeping. “So he’s playing dirty,” he mutters, his jaw set, tension radiating through him. “He wants us scared, wants us paranoid. But more than that, he wants revenge.”

“He’s sloppy, though,” Nate adds. “That drop was quick and messy, not his usual style. He’s desperate.”

I tighten my grip on the edge of the counter, my mind spinning with all the ways this could go down. We’ve been in tight spots before, but this… this feels different. More personal. And if he’s willing to get this close, to go this far… then he’s not planning on stopping until he gets what he wants.

“We need to handle this,” I say, my voice low. “He’s out there, and we know he’s willing to do whatever it takes.”

Danny nods, his face hardening. “Then we don’t give him a single chance. We end this before he even thinks about getting near her again.”