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My jaw clenches at the mention of my wife. She thinks I’m here to negotiate, to talk things through like civilized men. She doesn’t need to know what I’m really capable of when someone threatens what’s mine.

The plane touches down with a gentle bump. Through the window, New York’s skyline spreads out like a concrete jungle—familiar and foreign all at once. This city holds too many ghosts, too many memories I’d rather forget.

A black SUV waits on the tarmac, one of Nicolo’s men at the wheel.Fuck. The message is clear—he knows we’re here, and he’s controlling the game from the start.

“Subtle,” Eli mutters as we descend the stairs.

The driver—a new face I don’t recognize—opens the rear door without a word. I slide in, Eli following close behind. The leather seats still smell new, but there’s an underlying scent of gunpowder that sets my teeth on edge.

We wind through the city streets, taking a route I know by heart. Nicolo’s compound sits in an old Italian neighborhood, a fortress disguised as a family estate. As we approach the iron gates, memories flood back—training sessions in the garden, strategy meetings in the study, expectations crushing down on my shoulders.

The car stops in the circular driveway. Two guards flank the main entrance, their stance casual, their eyes sharp. I recognize Tommy “The Blade” Moretti among them—Nicolo’s newest enforcer and, if rumors are true, even more ruthless than his predecessor.

“Well, well.” Tommy’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as we approach. “The lost brother returns.”

“Skip the reunion bullshit, Tommy.” I keep my voice level. “Where is he?”

“In his study.” Tommy’s hand rests casually on his weapon. “But he wants to see you alone.”

Eli tenses beside me. We expected this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Fine.” I turn to Eli. “Wait here. If anything feels off—”

“I’ll burn this place to the ground,” he finishes quietly.

Tommy’s smile widens fractionally. “Still so dramatic, Zeke. Some things never change.”

I ignore the jab and follow him inside. The house is exactly as I remember—old world elegance masking modern security. Cameras track our movement through marble halls lined with Renaissance art. Everything screams wealth, power,family.

The study door is open, warm light spilling into the hallway. Tommy gestures for me to enter, then pulls the door shut behind me with a soft click.

Nicolo sits behind his massive desk, the silver in his hair gleaming in the lamplight. He looks older than I remember, but I guess we’re both a little older than the last time I was here. His dark eyes are as sharp as ever.

“Ezekiel.” He stands, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome home.”

“This isn’t my home.” I remain by the door, hands loose at my sides. “Not anymore.”

“No?” He moves around the desk, every movement deliberate. “Then why did you come back?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes.” He settles into one of the leather armchairs, gesturing for me to take the other. “Sorry to hear about the boy. Leo, isn’t it?”

Heat flashes through my chest. “Where is he?”

“Please, sit.” When I don’t move, he sighs. “We’re family, Ezekiel. There’s no need for such hostility.”

“Family?” I bark out a laugh. “Is that what you call using the Columbus mafia to kidnap my nephew? Having Alessandro’s men watch my house? Threatening my wife?”

“Such accusations.” He pours two glasses of scotch from a crystal decanter. “I’m hurt that you would think so little of me. Family means everything to me—you know this.”

“Like it meant everything when Clara died?”

The name settles over us like poison. Nicolo’s expression doesn’t change, but something dark flickers in his eyes.

“That was unfortunate.” He sets one glass on the table beside the empty chair. “But necessary.”

“Necessary?” My fists clench. “She was innocent. Just like Leo. I know you know where he is.”