Chapter 120 -
For some reason best known to Christian, he burst back into the meeting room with Leo and Nia still there.
His face was flushed, chest heaving, eyes sharp with a mix of fear and fury. He’d clearly been pacing, building himself up, and now he zeroed in on Leo like a predator sizing up prey. Something in him darkened and hardened.
"This is a mistake."
Leo didn’t turn from the window. The city lights stretched beneath them, indifferent, while his jaw tightened. "What do you mean, brother? We’ve been through this."
"No, we haven’t." Christian stepped closer, voice rising. "You’re so blinded by her, by the idea of saving her, that you can’t see straight. You’re letting every feeling dictate your strategy."
Nia stiffened, stepping forward. "Christian, what is wrong with you? Haven't we—"
"I’m not talking to you." Christian’s gaze didn’t waver. "I’m talking to him, the same man who used to think before he acted. To the man who knew how to plan, to control the chaos instead of letting it control him."
Leo turned slowly, eyes meeting Christian’s. "Watch your mouth, brother."
"Or what?" Christian took another step forward. "You gonna hit me again? Go ahead. It won’t change the truth."
Nia moved quickly between them. "Both of you—please, stop this nonsense!"
Christian ignored her. "She’s not Andrea. She’s not anyone else. You don’t get to play hero and save everyone. Sometimes people die, sometimes you have to let them."
Leo moved in a blur. His fist met Christians jaw. The crack echoed sharply through the room. Christian staggered, recovered, and lunged back at Leo. They collided into the wall, forearms against throats, knees driving, each blow sending a statement across.
"You think I don’t know that?" Leo growled, voice low, raw. "You think I don’t lie awake every night counting the bodies I couldn’t save?"
Christian shoved him back, then swung again. "Then act like it! Stop pretending this is anything other than suicide!"
They traded punches like men possessed, heavy breathing and grunts of pain mixing with the slap of skin against skin. Nia’s heart thumped in her chest as she watched, frozen, helpless to stop them.
Christian caught Leo across the jaw. Leo’s head snapped back, spitting blood, before he drove his fist into Christian’s stomach. Christian doubled over, gasping, then retaliated, connecting with Leo’s temple.
They separated briefly, chests heaving, both bleeding, both wild-eyed.
Christian wiped blood from his split lip. "You’re going to get her killed."
Leo’s hand flexed at his side. "I’m going to save her."
"Save her? You’re going to watch her die, just like Andrea."
The words sliced through the room.
Leo lunged at Christian. Christian braced, and they collided again, harder this time. The table scraped the floor, tumbling the contents on the table over.
Nia’s voice rang sharp. "Enough!"
Neither moved or spoke.
She grabbed the nearest thing to her, a glass of water, and flung it across the room. It shattered, sending shards clinking across the floor. Water sprayed over both men. They froze, turning to her, fists still tight, eyes blazing.
Her voice was sharp as steel. "You want to kill each other? Fine. Do it after we get her back. But right now, you’re wasting time she doesn’t have."
Leo’s jaw tightened. Christian’s shoulders slumped slightly, eyes meeting his in a fleeting, tense truce.
The door creaked, and Micheal stepped in, arms crossed. "Seriously? We have three days to plan a rescue, and you’re redecorating with each other’s faces?"
Christian spat blood, wiped it on his sleeve. "Stay out of this."
"Someone has to." Micheal started gathering the scattered photos, maps, notes. "Santiago’s probably watching right now, laughing his ass off. The great DeSanto brothers tearing each other apart while he sits on his throne, sipping his drink."
Leo’s eyes stayed locked on Christian. "He started it."
"He always starts it," Micheal muttered. "The question is whether you’re smart enough to finish it."
Christian stepped forward. "I’m not the enemy here."
"Then stop acting like it." Nia’s voice cut through, sharp as a knife. "Both of you."
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
Leo exhaled slowly, hand going to his ribs where the bandage had already begun to seep blood. Nia crossed to him. "You’re bleeding."
"I’m fine."
"No, you’re not." Her hand pressed firmly against the wound. He flinched. "Sit down."
He hesitated for a while, narrowing his eyes, but then he slid into the nearest chair. Christian remained tense, crossing his arms as blood dripped onto his shirt.
Micheal handed him a napkin. "You look terrible."
"Shut up."
Nia worked quickly, peeling back the bandage, cleaning the wound. The stitches had held, but the impact tore them slightly. Fresh blood welled up.
"I need the kit."
Micheal handed it over. She worked in silence, bandaging Leo carefully, her fingers steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her. Leo didn’t speak. He just watched her face.
Christian finally broke the silence. "Three days isn’t enough."
Leo looked up, calm. "It’s what we have."
"Then we need more intel. More eyes. More—"
"We need a miracle." Micheal’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "And miracles don’t grow on trees."
Nia pressed the bandage flatly. She looked up at Leo. "Tell me the real plan. Not the one you told them. The one you’re actually thinking."
Leo’s gaze was steady, unflinching. "You walk in. We track you. We extract you."
"And Santiago?"
"He dies."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Christian laughed bitterly. "You hear yourself? You sound like a man who’s already lost."
Leo stood slowly, meeting his eyes. "I’ve lost everything once—my parents, Andrea, pieces of myself I’ll never get back. I’m not losing her too."
Christian nodded slowly. "Then we do this right. No more fighting. No more ego. We plan. We execute. We bring her home."
Leo extended his hand. Christian looked at it, then took it. They shook hands and embraced each other.
Micheal let out a breath. "Finally, they lived happily ever after. Can we work now?"
Nia looked at the three of them: brothers bound by blood, by loss, by the same desperate need to protect what mattered. For now, standing together.
Her phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.
She answered.
Santiago’s voice came across. "Three days, little bird. Tick tock."