Chapter 88

Chapter 88
Diego

We’ve finally reached the day—the day the deal goes down. Landon and I wake early, even though it isn’t scheduled until nine tonight. The air feels charged, heavy with anticipation, as though the air itself knows what’s coming.

We wash up and eat breakfast in comfortable silence, each bite deliberate, each glance weighted. It feels as if speaking too much might break a spell, unravel the fragile thread holding everything together.

Afterward, we move to my office. Landon settles into my lap, his presence grounding me as I reach out to my men. I confirm their roles, their readiness, and remind them of my promise—that I will take care of their families for the duration of their incarceration. Their loyalty is bought with blood and sacrifice, and I coordinate every detail with precision, hoping against hope that it all unfolds without issue.

Meanwhile, Landon keeps in touch with Price, confirming that everything remains on track. Each message exchanged is another stone laid in the path toward tonight, another reminder that the clock is ticking.

Antonio is given clothes and a lavish meal, almost ceremonial in its presentation. It reads like a last meal, though only Landon and I know the truth—that it is the last taste of luxury he’ll have for a long time. We allow him to partake, watching as he devours the food with gusto, as if he senses the fleeting nature of the moment.

We all sit at the dining table, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. Landon and I exchange quiet looks, our thoughts aligned even without words. Antonio eats like a man starved, each bite desperate, each swallow heavy.

Later, we move to the living room. Antonio sits stiffly on the couch, posture rigid, eyes darting but never settling. Landon curls into my lap, his warmth steady against me, and we whisper back and forth as the hours crawl by. Time drifts slowly, each minute stretching, each second reminding us that the endgame is near.

By the time evening settles over the mansion, the air feels thick, humming with anticipation. Every clock tick echoes louder than usual, each passing minute pulling us closer to the moment everything will be decided.

Landon and I dress deliberately, the ritual of preparation grounding us. He straightens his shirt in the mirror, and I watch him, memorizing the lines of his face as though imprinting them into my memory. My own suit feels heavier than usual, the weight of responsibility stitched into every seam. Even though I won’t be with him, I dress the part as a note of solidarity, that even though I won’t be with him physically, I’ll be there with him in spirit.

We meet in the living room. Antonio is seated stiffly on the couch, looking ill at ease in his suit. His posture still rigid, his eyes darting nervously. My men move quietly through the halls, checking weapons, confirming positions, their presence a constant reminder of what’s at stake.

I settle into a chair, Landon instinctively finding his place beside me. His hand brushes mine, a fleeting touch that steadies me more than any plan or weapon ever could.

The hours crawl, the tension thick enough to taste. Outside, the sky darkens, the last traces of daylight bleeding into shadow. Soon, it will be time.

I lean close to Landon, my voice low, meant only for him. “No matter what happens tonight, remember—we walk out of this together.”

He nods, his eyes unwavering, his grip tightening around my hand.

The deal is waiting. The night is ours to fail—or to survive.

It’s only a few minutes before eight-thirty when Landon and I stand together in the doorway, the cool night air spilling in as the rest of the men load into the cars—including Antonio. Engines rumble low, headlights cutting sharp beams across the gravel drive.

“I’ll be right here waiting for your return,” I whisper.

Landon wraps his arms around my neck as he rises on tiptoe. His lips press firmly to mine in a chaste kiss, but I can’t leave it at that. I push inside his mouth with my tongue, seeking out his own, groaning softly as they tangle together. The kiss deepens, desperate, until I force myself to pull away slowly. They need to leave. Timing is everything tonight.

“I love you, Diego,” Landon says in a low voice, his breath warm against my lips. “I’ll text you before they take me in, so you know I won’t be able to contact you until they release me.”

I nod, though the motion feels heavy, my chest tight with unease. Anxiety coils inside me as I release him, watching him walk toward the car. He slides in beside Antonio, the door shutting with a finality that makes my stomach twist.

I know Landon is more than capable of holding everything together. He’s proven himself time and again. But capability doesn’t erase risk. I can’t account for every error, every variable, every betrayal waiting in the shadows. That’s where the anxiety stems from—the unknown.

I stand in the doorway, watching as the cars roll down the drive, engines growling, taillights glowing red against the dark. They pass through the gates, disappearing into the distance until there’s nothing left but silence.

The night feels colder without him.

I step back inside, closing the door firmly, the sound echoing through the empty hall. My footsteps carry me to the living room, where I sink onto the sofa. The cushions swallow me, but they offer no comfort. The house feels too quiet, too still, as if it’s holding its breath along with me.

I don’t stay sitting still for long. Restlessness drives me to my feet, pacing back and forth across the living room. The silence of the house feels oppressive, each creak of the floorboards echoing louder than it should. I glance at my watch—he’s only been gone fifteen minutes. In ten more, they’ll arrive on location, and everything will begin.

I spend those ten minutes pacing, my footsteps sharp against the polished floor, my breath uneven. The other five minutes until nine, I force myself to stand still, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, trying to center myself. I repeat the same mantra in my head: We planned everything. There should be no room for errors. Everything will work out just fine.

But my heart betrays me, pounding rapidly at the thought of Landon out there without me. The image of him walking into danger alone gnaws at me, twisting my insides. I try to calm myself—there’s no use working myself into a frenzy when I don’t even know what’s happening yet.

Finally, I collapse onto the couch, the cushions surrounding me as if giving me a much-needed hug. My watch reads five minutes after nine. The deal should be well underway by now. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, head in my hands, staring at the floor as if answers might appear there. We planned for every contingency, I remind myself. This should happen with no problems.

Five more minutes crawl by before my phone buzzes in my pocket. The sound jolts me upright. I pull it out quickly, my fingers trembling as I open the message.

It’s Landon: They’re taking me in. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.

I stare at the words, my chest tightening. I don’t bother texting back—I know it’s already too late. Even though I know he’ll eventually return to me, the ache is sharp, immediate. I can’t help wishing I could have heard his voice one last time before they took him in.

The silence after the message feels heavier than before, pressing down on me, reminding me that all I can do now is wait.