Chapter 52 POV MAT

Chapter 52 POV MAT

The first sign something was wrong was the silence.
Not the good kind—the earned kind after a battle is won—but the hollow, watchful quiet that crawls under your skin and tells you the enemy is already inside the house.
I woke before dawn, senses sharp, hand already reaching for the gun beneath the pillow.
Lilianna was awake too.
I could tell by the way she hadn’t moved.
“You feel it,” I murmured.
“Yes.”
The brownstone should’ve been humming—guards shifting, radios murmuring, boots against stone. Instead, it felt sealed. Vacuumed. Like the building itself was holding its breath.
I slid out of bed and crossed to the security monitor.
Every feed was live.
Every camera clean.
Too clean.
No static.
No blind spots.
No movement.
That’s when I knew.
“They didn’t come for me,” I said quietly.
Lilianna was already standing. “They came through someone.”
I pulled on my shirt and holster, heart beginning to pound—not with fear.
With rage.
Because there were only three people in this city who could bypass my security without triggering an alarm.
Louis.
Dante.
And—
The door alarm chirped once.
Soft.
Polite.
Controlled.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered it without hesitation.
“Costello,” a woman’s voice said smoothly. Cultured. Amused. “You really should teach your people not to trust ghosts.”
Lilianna froze.
I recognized that voice.
High Table.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
A soft laugh. “Safe. For now.”
“Where is my son?” Lilianna snapped, steel in her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
A pause.
Then—
“He’s not the one we took.”
The air dropped out of the room.
I felt Lilianna’s hand grip my arm hard enough to bruise.
“Then who?” I asked.
Another pause.
Deliberate.
Calculated.
“You left one loose thread,” the woman said. “And we pulled it.”
The call ended.
At the same moment—
Gunfire erupted downstairs.
Chaos detonated through the brownstone.
Not a siege.
An extraction.
Clean. Surgical. Ruthless.
I moved fast, Lilianna at my side, bullets cracking past us as we descended the stairs. Two of my men were already down—alive, but bleeding. Tranq rounds. Precision shots.
Not Syndicate.
Military-grade contractors.
High Table enforcers.
They didn’t want bodies.
They wanted leverage.
We reached the main hall just as Louis staggered backward, clutching his side.
“Boss—” he gritted. “They took Dante.”
The words hit like a hammer.
Dante.
My brother in everything but blood.
“They knew his rotation,” Louis continued. “His habits. His weak points.”
Which meant—
“They’ve been watching us,” Lilianna said.
“No,” I corrected, firing down the hall and dropping a masked operative. “They’ve been studying us.”
The last of them vanished through the rear exit within seconds.
Gone.
No pursuit.
Because they wanted us to chase.
I didn’t.
I stood there in the wreckage, chest heaving, blood dripping from my knuckles, staring at the empty doorway where Dante had been taken.
“They want to negotiate,” Lilianna said quietly.
“They want to threaten,” I replied.
Same thing, different mask.
The message came an hour later.
Delivered the old way.
A courier.
A man who expected to die the moment he stepped inside my territory—and almost did.
He dropped a tablet on my desk and left without a word.
On the screen:
Dante.
Strapped to a chair.
Beaten, but conscious.
A timer pulsed in the corner.
48:00:00
Then text appeared.
YOU WANT HIM BACK?
BRING THE BOY.
Lilianna went very still.
Too still.
“No,” she said.
Immediately.
Flat.
Absolute.
“They don’t know who Callum is,” Louis said carefully. “Do they?”
I stared at the screen.
At Dante’s bloodied face.
At the trap coiling tighter by the second.
“They know exactly who he is,” I said.
Silence shattered.
Lilianna’s breath hitched—not a sob, not fear.
Rage.
Pure and lethal.
“They wouldn’t dare,” she said.
“They already have.”
She turned to me slowly. “If you even think about considering this—”
“I won’t,” I said instantly. “I would burn the world before I hand them my son.”
Our son.
I didn’t say it.
But it lived between us now, undeniable and dangerous.
Louis swallowed. “Then they’ll kill Dante.”
I closed my eyes once.
Dante had stood beside me since we were teenagers stealing territory with knives and broken bones. He’d bled for me. Killed for me. Lied for me.
And now—
“They think this is my weakness,” I said quietly.
Lilianna stepped forward.
“No,” she said. “They think Callum is.”
She placed her palm flat against my chest.
“They’re wrong.”
I opened my eyes.
“What are you thinking?”
Her smile was cold.
Brilliant.
Terrifying.
“We don’t trade,” she said. “We replace.”
Louis frowned. “Replace?”
She turned to the screen.
“They want a boy,” she said calmly. “A symbol. A bloodline.”
My pulse spiked.
“No,” I said sharply. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m not talking about Callum,” she said.
I stared at her.
Understanding hit slowly.
Dangerously.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” she replied. “The High Table doesn’t know the full Genovese line was wiped out.”
“They think Callum is the last,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Which makes him priceless.”
“And makes the truth—” I started.
“A weapon,” she finished.
Louis went pale. “You’re suggesting—”
“We give them what they asked for,” Lilianna said. “Just not who they think.”
My blood ran cold.
“Lilianna,” I said low. “No child goes into that den.”
Her gaze locked onto mine.
“No child,” she agreed.
Then she added—
“But a ghost can.”
I understood then.
Fully.
Horrifically.
“You,” I said.
She nodded.
“I’ll go.”
I grabbed her wrist. “Absolutely not.”
“They won’t kill me,” she said softly. “Not yet. I’m more valuable alive.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
She leaned in, forehead resting against mine.
“Then make sure they never get the chance.”
The room was silent.
The timer ticked.
Dante’s breath rattled through the speakers.
I had never felt fear like this—not for myself.
For her.
For Callum.
For the fact that the High Table had just forced my hand.
“I won’t lose you,” I said.
“You won’t,” she replied.
Because we’re not playing their game anymore.
She cupped my face.
“This is the moment,” she whispered. “Where we stop reacting… and start ending them.”
I closed my eyes.
Then nodded once.
“Then we plan a war they don’t survive.”
Her smile was feral.
“Good,” she said.
Because they just chose the wrong family.