Chapter 63 POV MATTEO

Chapter 63 POV MATTEO

War doesn’t wait for grief to finish settling.
It sharpens it.
Turns it into a weapon.
By dawn, the brownstone was no longer a home—it was a command center humming with controlled violence. Phones rang in short bursts. Orders were given in clipped tones. Guns were cleaned, loaded, checked again. Maps were spread across every flat surface like we were planning to invade a country.
Because we were.
Petrov had crossed a line no one ever survived crossing.
Callum.
My son.
The thought alone was enough to make my hands shake if I let it. So I didn’t.
I stood at the center of the war room, staring at the city through reinforced glass. New York looked the same as it always did—indifferent, merciless, alive.
Behind me, Lilianna spoke quietly with Dante, her voice steady, precise. She didn’t sound like a woman hiding anymore.
She sounded like an heir reclaiming a throne.
Louis approached from my left. “The perimeter teams are in position. We’ve rotated guards every two hours and scrubbed the routes. No one gets near the block without us knowing.”
“Good,” I said. “What about Petrov’s movement?”
“Quiet. Too quiet.”
I nodded. That meant he was planning something big—or something personal.
“Rafaele?” I asked.
Louis grimaced. “Nothing since last night. His burner went dark. We traced his last signal to the east docks, but by the time we got there, it was cold.”
Of course it was.
Rafaele never stayed where you expected him to be. He’d learned that trick young. Watching him grow up had been like watching a snake learn how to smile.
“Keep pressure on his financial channels,” I said. “Freeze anything with his signature on it. I want him choking.”
Louis hesitated. “That’ll alert the other families.”
“Let them be alerted,” I said coldly. “Anyone still standing with Petrov deserves to know I’m done playing diplomat.”
Louis nodded and moved off.
I turned as Lilianna approached, holding a tablet. Her hair was pulled back tight, eyes sharp, face unreadable.
“Two warehouses just shifted ownership overnight,” she said. “Shell companies, but the money trail screams Syndicate.”
I took the tablet. “Locations?”
“Queens and Red Hook,” she replied. “And there’s something else.”
I waited.
“They’re moving people,” she said. “Not just weapons. Engineers. Chemists. Men who specialize in logistics.”
That made my stomach tighten.
“He’s fortifying,” I said.
“No,” she corrected softly. “He’s preparing to disappear.”
Petrov didn’t run unless he planned to burn everything behind him.
“He won’t leave without making a statement,” I said. “And that statement will be blood.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway where Callum slept under guard.
“Yes,” she said. “It will.”
We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of what we both knew pressing down hard.
Finally, she spoke. “I want to move Callum.”
My head snapped toward her. “No.”
“Matteo—”
“This house is a fortress,” I said. “No one gets closer to him than ten feet.”
“And Petrov knows that,” she replied calmly. “Which makes it predictable.”
I exhaled sharply.
“Say what you’re really saying,” I said.
She didn’t hesitate. “He’ll come here.”
A slow, terrible certainty spread through my chest.
“And when he does,” she continued, “it won’t be subtle. He’ll want you watching when it happens.”
My jaw clenched.
“I won’t let him near our son,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why we need to move him before Petrov forces our hand.”
“Where?” I demanded.
She met my gaze. “Somewhere Petrov won’t expect.”
Before I could respond, Dante burst into the room, face grim.
“We’ve got movement,” he said. “North Bronx. Three vans, no plates. They just hit one of our stash houses.”
“How bad?” I asked.
“Everyone inside is dead.”
Silence.
Lilianna closed her eyes briefly.
“Send cleanup,” I ordered. “And lock the city down.”
Dante hesitated. “Boss… there’s more.”
I turned fully. “Spit it out.”
“One of the men had a message,” he said. “Carved into his chest.”
My blood ran cold. “What did it say?”
Dante swallowed.
“Blood answers blood.”
Petrov’s favorite phrase.
The bastard was getting bolder.
“Alright,” I said. “That’s enough waiting.”
I turned to Lilianna. “Pack a bag for Callum. Only essentials.”
Her brows furrowed. “You’re agreeing?”
“I’m adapting,” I corrected. “Where are we taking him?”
She hesitated—just a second.
“Rome,” she said.
The word echoed.
I stared at her. “Italy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane,” I snapped. “Petrov has reach there.”
“Not where we’re going,” she said firmly. “My father had a safe haven. Old Genovese ground. Off the books. No digital footprint.”
I crossed my arms. “You planned this.”
“I prepared,” she said evenly. “There’s a difference.”
I hated how right she was.
“And who’s guarding him?” I asked.
She didn’t blink. “Me.”
“No,” I said instantly.
“Yes,” she countered.
“I’m not sending you away from me.”
“And I’m not leaving our son unprotected,” she shot back. “Petrov wants leverage. You’re the war. Callum is the prize.”
I stepped closer to her, voice low. “I can protect you both.”
“Here?” she asked quietly. “In the center of his storm?”
She wasn’t wrong.
Again.
I dragged a hand down my face.
“Two teams,” I said finally. “One decoy route, one real. Only Louis knows which is which.”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
“And I want eyes on you every second,” I added. “If I lose contact—”
“You won’t,” she said.
I wanted to believe that.
We moved fast.
Callum was bundled up gently, still half asleep, murmuring protests that cut straight through me. Lilianna kept her voice soft, soothing him as she always did.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“On a trip,” she said, smiling. “An adventure.”
He yawned. “Papa coming?”
I crouched in front of him, pressing my forehead to his.
“Soon,” I promised.
Too softly.
Too carefully.
He smiled anyway.
Outside, engines rumbled quietly. The convoy was ready.
I kissed Lilianna hard, once. Not gentle. Not hesitant.
“I’ll finish this,” I said.
She touched my face. “Come back alive.”
“That’s the plan.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Rafaele won’t stop until one of you is dead.”
“I know,” I said.
“And if it comes down to it?” she asked.
My jaw tightened.
“I’ll do what I have to,” I said.
She searched my face, then nodded.
“I love you,” she said.
The words hit harder than any bullet.
“I love you too,” I replied.
The doors closed.
The cars pulled away.
And something inside me hardened into something lethal and unbreakable.
Petrov made his next move before nightfall.
We intercepted a broadcast—pirated signal, old Syndicate frequency.
Petrov’s face filled the screen, smiling like the devil himself.
“Matteo Costello,” he purred. “You disappoint me. Sending your child away like a coward.”
My blood froze.
He knew.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Petrov continued. “That I wouldn’t anticipate your fear?”
The screen flickered.
Then changed.
To a familiar street.
A familiar café.
Rome.
My heart slammed violently.
“You see,” Petrov said softly, “I don’t need to chase ghosts.”
The camera tilted.
And I saw her.
Lilianna.
Standing frozen.
Guns raised around her.
And Rafaele stepping into frame, smiling wide.
“Checkmate, cousin,” Rafaele said calmly.
The feed cut.
The room erupted into chaos.
I didn’t hear it.
Didn’t feel it.
All I saw was red.
Petrov had outplayed us.
But he’d made one mistake.
He’d touched my family.
And for that—
I would burn his world down to the foundation.
This wasn’t war anymore.
This was extermination.