Chapter 42: CHAPTER 42 — POV MATTEO

It was a warning.

A promise.

A declaration of war.

The screen had gone dark, leaving only the afterimage of Petrov’s smirk burned into my skull. That bastard’s voice echoed in my ears like gunfire still ringing after a firefight.

Let’s see how you handle the next game.

Lilianna stood behind me, her breathing steady even though the shadows crawled across the room like living things. She wasn’t afraid — not of this, not of Petrov, not of the dark.

But she was worried.

Worried for Callum.

Worried for us.

Worried for what I’d be forced to do next.

I holstered my gun, grabbed my phone, and checked the system feed. Dead. Completely dead. Too precise for coincidence.

Louis’s voice crackled through the walkie in my pocket.

“Boss? House power’s been severed from outside. Backup lines are intact but overridden. No breach.”

Lilianna’s hand touched my shoulder. “He wanted your attention.”

“He has it,” I said, turning toward her.

Even in the dimness, she was sharper than anyone I’d ever known — spine straight, eyes blazing, calm and dangerous. A woman born to war even though she spent her life trying to escape it.

My woman.

“Matteo,” she said, reading my face. “What’s going through your head?”

“Strategic murder,” I muttered.

“Good,” she said, stepping closer. “Then we’re thinking the same thing.”

I swallowed a smile — dark, unwilling, but real.

She always knew.

“Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “We need upstairs secure.”

When we pushed open the door to the hallway, shadows jumped across the walls. Guards were already moving — silent, efficient, guns raised. They cleared room after room while I kept Lilianna close behind me.

Callum’s room was lit with battery lanterns.

He was awake.

Sitting up.

Rubbing his eyes.

“Mom?” he whispered, voice trembling.

Lilianna ran to him. “Baby, it’s okay. Just the lights.”

He reached for her shirt, gripping it with tiny fingers. “I heard a noise.”

“That was me,” I said softly, stepping into the doorway so he could see me. “Just checking things, little man.”

He blinked at me — the same brown eyes that once looked at me from a mirror when I was six, before the Costello name pulled me into blood and duty.

“You look sad,” Callum said.

Lilianna stiffened.

I crouched beside the bed. “Do I?”

He nodded. “Like you’re hurting.”

Something broke along my ribs — not bone, not flesh. Something deeper. Something I didn’t have a name for yet. Something I wasn’t sure I deserved.

“Thanks for telling me,” I whispered.

He nodded once, trusting, unguarded.

Then he reached for me.

I froze.

Lilianna’s eyes widened.

Callum stretched out his hand — small, warm, brave — and placed it on my wrist.

A child’s simple act.

A father’s undoing.

I exhaled, slow and rough. “You should sleep. Nora’s right here.”

He dropped his hand but didn’t look away. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”

I paused for a breath too long.

Lilianna’s eyes snapped to mine — a warning and a plea.

I nodded. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll be here.”

He relaxed instantly.

I didn’t.

We tucked him back under the blanket. Nora stroked his hair, humming something soft and ancient. He drifted off in seconds.

Lilianna stepped into the hallway.

I followed.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned on me.

“Don’t do that again.”

I blinked. “Do what?”

“Pause when our son asks if you’ll still be alive tomorrow.”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “Lilianna—”

“No,” she said, stepping closer. “Don’t protect me from the truth. You said you wanted honesty. So here it is.”

Her voice didn’t shake.

But her pupils were blown wide.

Fear.

Anger.

Love.

They all looked the same on her.

“You are not allowed to die,” she said, voice low and fierce. “Not while this war is ours. Not while you have a son who needs you.”

I swallowed hard. “I never said—”

“You didn’t have to say it.” She jabbed a finger into my chest. “I know you. I know that look you get right before you decide you’re expendable.”

Jesus Christ.

She knew me too well.

“Lilianna—”

“You’re not expendable to me,” she whispered. “Or to him.”

Her eyes glistened.

Goddamn it.

I pulled her to me before I could think better of it. Her body pressed against mine — soft, tense, alive. She didn’t resist. She melted into me like she belonged there.

Her breath warmed my neck. My hands slid to her waist. Her fingers curled in my shirt.

We stood there in the dim hallway, two broken pieces holding each other together for one impossible moment.

“I’m not planning to die,” I whispered into her hair.

“You’d better not,” she murmured against my throat.

I kissed her temple, a promise and an apology all at once.

Then Louis appeared at the end of the hall.

“Boss.”

I let go of her slowly.

She stepped back reluctantly.

“What?” I asked.

“We found where the override came from.” Louis held up a small device wrapped in wires. “An external signal jammer with thermal masking. Petrov dropped it under the back deck. No breach — just interference.”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Meaning he was never trying to get inside,” Lilianna said softly before Louis could answer. “He just wanted to scare us.”

Louis nodded.

Lilianna exhaled, but it wasn’t relief.

It was fury.

“Good,” she said. “Then he wanted our attention. Let’s give him hell.”

I smiled. Dark. Sharp. Ready.

“Start briefing downstairs,” I told Louis. “Thirty minutes.”

He nodded and moved away.

Lilianna crossed her arms. “Tell me everything.”

“We’re not talking strategy in the hall.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

I stepped closer until her back touched the wall.

“Because when we talk strategy,” I murmured, “I stop thinking like a man and start thinking like a weapon.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It is,” I said softly, “when you’re this close.”

Her breath stuttered.

She glanced down at my mouth.

I leaned in—

Her hand pressed to my chest, stopping me. “Strategy first.”

Jesus Christ, she was going to kill me.

“Fine,” I said.

We walked downstairs together.

—

The den filled with men, maps, encrypted tablets, and the heavy scent of blood dried on torn clothes. Everyone was exhausted. Hurt. Angry.

Perfect.

Angry soldiers fought harder.

Louis placed the jammer on the table. “This was left intentionally. A taunt, nothing more.”

I nodded. “Petrov wants us reactive. Sloppy. Emotional.”

“You’re not giving him that,” Lilianna said firmly.

I glanced at her.

She sat beside me.

Not behind.

Beside.

The men noticed.

Good.

Louis zoomed in on a map. “Petrov’s video background — it’s an industrial warehouse, north side of the river. Could be a dozen locations.”

“Not a dozen,” I muttered. “Three.”

Lilianna’s eyes snapped to me. “The three old export sites from your father’s era.”

“Our fathers’ era,” I corrected quietly.

She inhaled sharply.

Because she knew I was right.

The Costellos and Genoveses once owned that entire stretch of the river.

“What’s he doing there?” she asked.

“Something symbolic,” I said. “He took a Syndicate traitor there for a reason. He’s daring us to come.”

“And we will,” she said simply.

The men nodded.

Louis cleared his throat. “We’ve mobilized units to watch all three sites from a distance. No one moves in without your word.”

“Good,” I said. “We choose the location he least expects. We outsmart him, choke him out, and make an example so graphic the Syndicate pisses itself.”

A few men smirked.

Lilianna didn’t.

Her expression was grim.

Controlled.

“Matteo,” she said quietly. “He’s not scared of you.”

“Not yet,” I corrected.

“No.” Her voice sharpened. “He’s scared of me.”

The room went silent.

I stared at her.

She stared right back.

“Explain,” I said.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice low and lethal.

“He kidnapped Arman for a reason. Arman betrayed you. But Petrov put him in a Genovese-marked building.”

I blinked.

The men murmured.

She continued.

“This isn’t about the Syndicate. Not anymore. He wants me. He wants what’s left of my family. He’s taunting you with the traitor — but he’s taunting me with the location.”

My pulse hammered.

Holy shit.

She was right.

“Petrov is provoking the Genovese bloodline,” she whispered. “My bloodline.”

Louis cursed under his breath.

I stared at her like I was seeing her for the first time.

“You think he’s trying to draw out your father’s remains. Or your uncle’s allies,” I said.

“Or me,” she said softly. “Personally.”

I leaned back, absorbing it, the puzzle shifting into place.

Petrov didn’t fear me.

He feared her heritage.

He feared the legacy she carried — the one she never wanted.

“And if he’s targeting your past,” I said slowly, “he’s going to weaponize your future.”

Her jaw clenched. “Callum.”

My blood went ice cold.

“Louis!” I barked.

He straightened instantly. “Yes, boss.”

“Double security around my son. Move two teams to the perimeter. No one gets within fifty yards of that house without clearance.”

“Yes, boss.”

He ran out the door.

Lilianna’s eyes met mine.

Her voice was almost a whisper.

“You said it.”

I blinked. “Said what?”

“You said my son.”

I paused.

Then I swallowed.

And didn’t correct myself.

Her eyes softened — dangerously soft.

Later.

We’d deal with that later.

For now—

“We end this,” I said. “Tomorrow night.”

The room erupted into movement.

Weapons.

Plans.

Orders.

War.

Lilianna stood.

I stood with her.

She looked up at me.

I looked down at her.

“You sure you’re ready?” I asked.

Her lips curved into a feral smile.

“You should be asking Petrov that.”

I exhaled a laugh — sharp, dangerous, involuntary.

Christ, I loved this woman.

She turned toward the staircase.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We burn his empire.”

I watched her go.

And for the first time since the docks…

I felt something close to hope.