Chapter 19: Chapter 19 — POV Lilianna

The silence in the brownstone the next morning wasn’t peaceful—it was charged. Heavy. The kind of silence that told you the world was still spinning, but too fast, too violently, for comfort.

I stood in the kitchen, Callum’s small hands wrapped around a bowl of cereal while I pretended to drink coffee. My fingers had been around the mug so long the ceramic had gone cold.

Matteo hadn’t come downstairs yet.

He barely slept after last night’s attack. I heard him pacing the hallway outside my door around 4 a.m., stopping, moving again, stopping. A restless predator trapped in a moment he couldn’t control.

Callum swung his legs under the chair and hummed while eating, completely oblivious to the line of tension running down my spine.

A soft creak sounded from the stairs.

I didn’t have to turn. I felt Matteo before I saw him.

He entered the kitchen with that purposeful stride, black T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, jaw freshly shaved, expression taut in a way that told me whatever he had planned wasn’t something I would like.

He walked straight to Callum first—he always did—and ruffled his curls gently.

“Morning, buddy.”

Callum’s face lit. “Matteo! Can we finish the Lego plane today?! It’s so big—like this!” He held his arms out dramatically.

The tension in Matteo’s shoulders softened for the first time since dawn. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We’ll do it.”

Then his eyes lifted to mine.

Sharp. Focused. Fierce.

My heart dropped.

“We need to talk,” he said.

I nodded, gave Callum a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll be upstairs in a moment, sweetheart.”

Callum nodded, fully absorbed in his cereal mountain.

Matteo waited until I brushed past him into the hallway. He followed silently, closing the door behind us. The lock clicked into place—intentionally.

My pulse spiked.

He turned, arms crossing over his chest, gaze pinning me in place like I was a suspect he needed to interrogate.

“Petrov is moving,” he said. “Faster than expected.”

“And?”

“And I’m going after him today.”

My breath stalled. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“No, Matteo, listen—last night wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t even an attack. It was a message. He’s provoking you. He wants you unstable.”

He stepped closer. “And what do you think happens if I sit back and do nothing? He escalates. He pushes harder. He goes after the weak points.”

I knew what he meant. Me. Callum.

He didn’t say it, but the words hung between us like smoke.

“This isn’t his endgame,” Matteo continued. “He’s setting the board. And before he plays his hand, I’m flipping the table.”

“You’re reckless when you’re angry,” I pushed. “And you’re angry now.”

“No.” His voice lowered. “I’m controlled. Focused. And I’m not letting him take anything more from us.”

Us.

The word hit me harder than a bullet.

But that wasn’t the point. “You can’t take him alone.”

“I won’t,” he said. “Louis, Marcello, and half our units are coming.”

“And me.”

His expression sharpened instantly. “No.”

“Yes,” I insisted. “I’m part of this. You said it yourself. Last night I held my own. You trust me in the field—”

“I trust you,” he snapped, “to stay alive.”

The force of his words stole my breath.

His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. “You don’t go tonight.”

“That’s not your choice,” I bit out.

His eyes flashed dark. “Lilianna. You have a child upstairs. You can’t risk—”

“Don’t you dare,” I cut him off. “Don’t you use that against me.”

He exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to trap you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection,” I whispered sharply. “I need partnership.”

Silence.

Heavy. Bruised. Real.

He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face. Like he wanted to argue, but something inside him was fracturing.

“It’s not just you anymore,” he said, voice suddenly raw. “It’s him. Callum. If something happened to you—”

His throat constricted.

That startled me more than anything.

Matteo Costello didn’t hesitate. He didn’t falter. He didn’t break.

But he was breaking now.

“I can’t lose you,” he breathed.

I felt the burn behind my eyes before I could fight it. I stepped closer, tilting my chin up. “Then don’t push me out. Let me stand with you.”

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.

Then—

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Callum burst into the hallway, waving his Lego figure in the air. He froze when he saw our faces.

“Are you fighting?”

Matteo immediately relaxed his shoulders, voice gentle. “No, buddy. We’re planning.”

Callum squinted. “Momma’s mad.”

A breathless laugh escaped me. Matteo’s lips twitched.

“Come here,” he said, crouching down.

Callum ran to him, and Matteo lifted him with effortless strength. My heart clenched.

He fit so naturally against Matteo’s shoulder. It shouldn’t have felt like a picture I’d seen a thousand times before—but it did.

“Hey,” Matteo said softly. “I’m going to be out for a little while today. But Louis is here. And your mom. You’re safe.”

Callum nodded, wrapping little arms around Matteo’s neck. “Okay. I’ll finish the plane. You gotta help with the stickers later.”

Matteo pressed a kiss to his curls.

“I promise.”

An ache deepened inside me.

Callum didn’t know he was promising something far heavier than Lego stickers.

When Callum ran to the living room, Matteo stood again. His eyes met mine. The decision was made.

And not by me.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. It wasn’t a kiss. It was worse. More intimate. More breaking.

“You stay,” he murmured.

I swallowed. “Matteo—”

“Please,” he whispered.

That single word ruined me.

Because Matteo Costello didn’t say please.

Ever.

Before I could argue again, the back door opened and Louis’s voice carried up the hall.

“Matteo, we’re ready.”

He took one last look at me—full of something that felt like regret, like promise, like something he wasn’t ready to say.

Then he left.

The door shut behind him like a gunshot.

I stood frozen for a moment, feeling the house fall quiet again. Callum hummed from the next room, the TV bubbling in the background.

Then the fear hit.

No—not fear. Instinct.

Something was wrong.

Something was off.

Something felt… unfinished.

I grabbed my phone, scrolling through Matteo’s messages from last night. Logistics. Intel. Locations.

A name flashed across the screen:

Rashid Warehouse — tonight’s meeting site

My stomach dropped.

I knew that place.

Because my father used to use it.

And Petrov knew my father.

The realization slammed into me like a train.

This wasn’t Matteo’s battleground.

It was mine.

I grabbed my jacket.

There was no universe in which I was staying behind.

Before I could make it to the door, the brownstone alarm system beeped, signaling an entry point. My pulse spiked.

“Momma?” Callum called from the sofa. “Someone’s here.”

I moved fast—silent, careful—into the hallway, grabbing Matteo’s spare gun from the drawer near the stairs.

Three steps forward.

I heard voices.

Familiar ones.

I rounded the corner just in time to see Angelica—my half-sister—walking into my living room as if she owned the place.

Her heels clicked against the floor. Her lipstick was blood-red. Her expression? Poisonously amused.

“Hello, Lilianna,” she purred. “Long time.”

My grip tightened around the gun.

“Angelica,” I said coldly. “How the hell did you find me?”

She tilted her head, fake innocence dripping. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. I simply followed the trail of men with guns.”

Her eyes slid past me.

To Callum.

She smiled.

My blood turned to ice.

“Is that him?” she whispered. “The little secret you ran away with?”

Callum shrank back on the couch, confusion crossing his face. “Momma…?”

I stepped in front of him instantly. “Don’t you take one more step.”

Angelica laughed lightly. “Relax, sister. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it already.”

I raised the gun a fraction. “Try me.”

She sighed dramatically. “You always were emotional. I’m not here for him. I’m here to deliver a message.”

“What message?”

Her smile sharpened.

“Petrov wants a meeting. With you.”

My heart slammed into my ribs.

“With me?” I repeated.

She nodded. “Tonight. At the warehouse.”

The same warehouse Matteo was heading toward.

“And if I don’t show?” I asked.

Angelica’s expression softened—not with sympathy, but with something colder.

“He’ll kill Matteo.”

My blood went cold.

“And he’ll make you watch,” she added with a shrug.

Rage detonated inside me, violent and immediate.

Angelica leaned in, voice lowering. “Your choice, sister. Run… or finish this.”

She slid something onto the table—an address card, stained slightly with oil, marked with Petrov’s symbol.

Then she turned and left as easily as she’d arrived.

The moment the door shut, I exhaled shakily, gripping the table to stay upright.

Callum ran to me. I scooped him up, burying my face in his curls.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re okay.”

But I wasn’t.

Because Matteo was walking straight into a trap meant for me.

And the only way out… was if I walked into it first.

I set Callum down, cupping his cheeks. “Baby, I need you to stay with Louis. Do you understand?”

His eyes widened. “Momma—”

“I’ll come back,” I promised. “I swear it.”

He nodded slowly, trusting me in a way that broke me.

I grabbed my jacket, my gun, and my resolve.

Matteo wasn’t dying tonight.

Not for me.

And not because of Petrov’s game.

If anyone was ending this…

It was me.