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The phone rings once, twice. Each second feels like an eternity as Eve paces in front of me, running her hands through her hair. “How could this happen? How could they just let someone take him? Did your men even try to stop them?”

“Boss.” Micah’s voice finally comes through the line. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” I growl at the nonchalance in his tone. “Who picked up Leo?”

Silence. “Umm … Eve did.”

“No, she didn’t. She’s standing next to me ready to tear apart this city because Leo was not at school when she got there.”

“Hold on a sec. Let me check.” Micah’s voice is replaced by the faint shuffling of him moving around. It only takes him a few seconds before he returns. “We’ve got eyes on the footage. It was definitely Eve who picked up Leo. Same height, build, even wearing the clothes she had on this morning.”

My blood runs cold. “That’s impossible. Eve’s standing right here.”

“I’m looking at the footage right now. She signed him out, knew all the protocols, even had his usual after-school snack.”

I glance at Eve, who’s now pacing the hallway like a caged animal, her fingers raking through her hair. She’s wearing dark jeans, a cream-colored blouse, and brown leather jacket.

“Send me the footage. Now.” My voice comes out angrier than intended.

Seconds later, my phone buzzes. The video shows someone who looks exactly like Eve—down to the same clothes she’s got on right now—walking into the school. The impostor moves with Eve’s confident stride, even has her signature way of tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe. The level of detail, the preparation that must have gone into this. This was meticulously planned.

“There’s more,” Micah says, his voice grim. “The footage takes them to a parking lot. Black SUV, tinted windows. They switched cars three times in the first ten minutes. This is the work of professionals.”

Eve stops pacing and stares at me, her eyes wide with terror. She must see something in my expression because she stumbles backward until she hits the wall, sliding down to the floor as her legs give out.

“Find them,” I snarl into the phone. “I don’t care what it takes. Find my boy.”

My mind races as I stare at the footage on my phone, watching this impersonator lead Leo away. Only someone who’d been watching Eve for months could pull this off.

There’s hesitation in Leo’s body language but not enough to draw attention. He’s a young boy and often bounces around. Anyone could mistake the way he tugs at this woman’s hand as playful. But he’s smart. He knows this woman isn’t his aunt.

First Salvador’s death in New York, then Seb getting shot, and now Leo. Each incident is a calculated move, pieces falling into place for a game I should have seen coming.

Eve’s broken voice cuts through my thoughts. “A son for a son.” The words come out as barely a whisper.

I snap my head toward her. “What did you say?”

She looks up at me from her position on the floor, her face ashen. “Alessandro. When we found Gio’s body, he showed up to the crime scene. He looked right at me and said ‘a son for a son.’ I thought—” Her voice cracks. “I thought he was just grief-stricken, talking nonsense. But he wasn’t, was he?”

The pieces click into place. Alessandro Costa’s methodical dismantling of everything I hold dear. Salvador’s death wasn’t random. Seb’s shooting wasn’t an accident. And now Leo—Christ, Leo. My chest constricts as I think of that bright-eyed kid who’s become such a vital part of my life.

“Zeke.” Eve’s voice trembles. “What if they—what if they hurt him?”

The rage building inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s cold, calculated, deadly.

This ends now.

No more chess moves, no more careful planning. Alessandro wants to play games with children’s lives? Fine. I’ll burn his whole fucking empire to the ground.

I crouch down beside Eve, taking her tear-streaked face in my hands. “I swear to you, I will get Leo back. And then I’m going to end this. All of it.”

My hands cradle Eve’s face, her tears hot against my palms. Leo’s kidnapping crashes over us both. There’s a different kind of panic in her eyes this time. Not the controlled fear of an officer facing danger, but the primal panic of a mother whose child has been ripped away.

“I can’t lose him.” Her voice cracks. “I promised Rose I’d protect him. I promised—”

“We’ll get him back.” I press my forehead to hers, breathing in her familiar scent. “Together.”