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All pointed at the man who held me two nights ago. Who made me come apart in his hands, whispering what I am to him.

“Approved,” I say, handing back the tablet.

Because what choice do I have? Salvatore Bianchi wants me dead. Which means he will want my child dead.

Marco might love me, but will he ever stand against his father? Probably not, given how he hasn’t so far.

And I won’t spend my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the moment Salvatore decides Marco’s protection isn’t enough.

“Aria.”

Chiara’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She approaches from the far end of the warehouse, her face pale and drawn.

She’s opposed this from the beginning, but she’s here anyway.

“Chiara.” I force a smile. “Come to inspect our progress?”

“Come to talk sense into you.” She stops an arm’s length away, close enough that our conversation stays private. “Before you do something you can’t undo.”

Ettore takes the hint, melting back toward the planning tables. Smart man.

“This is already done,” I tell her quietly. “The wheels are in motion. In two days, this ends.”

“This?” She gestures at the organized chaos around us. “Or us? Because I’m not sure we’ll survive what you’re planning, Aria. Any of us.”

“We survive by winning.”

“And if we don’t win? If Marco’s men are better trained, better equipped?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “If we’re caught, captured, what happens to your baby?”

The question hits like a physical blow. I’ve been so focused on protecting my child from Salvatore’s future threats that I haven’t fully considered the immediate danger I’m walking into.

But then I remember the newspaper article. My face on the front page. Salvatore knows who I am now. Knows where I am. The only safety lies in ending this before he can move against me.

“The baby is exactly why I have to do this,” I say.

“So you’re going to war? You’d risk making your child fatherless before it’s even born?”

“I’m making sure my child has a future.”

Chiara steps closer, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Are you? Or are you trying to prove something to Marco? Trying to show him you’re strong enough to hurt him?”

The accusation stings because it carries a grain of truth I don’t want to examine.

How much of this is about justice for our parents?

How much is about protecting my child?

And how much is about making Marco pay for the lies, for the choice he made to protect his father over me?

“It doesn’t matter why,” I say finally. “What matters is that it’s necessary.”

“Is it?” She grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. “Because I saw the way you looked two mornings ago, Aria. You looked like a woman who’d been reminded why she fell in love.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? You’re carrying his child, and you’re planning to destroy his world, and you think that won’t destroy you, too?”

I pull free from her grip.