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"We need to reach Leonardo," I conclude. "It's our best shot at getting inside the Lombardi estate without starting a war."
There's silence on the other end as Damiano considers. I can almost see him pacing his office.
"You trust her on this?" he finally asks.
I glance at Melania, who's watching me intently.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I do."
Another pause. "The brother could be compromised."
"It's a risk," I acknowledge. "But we're running out of options. Raymond's security is government-grade. We need to pivot."
"Agreed," Damiano says after a moment. "I'm sending Matteo and Noah to pick you up. Bring her to the estate. We'll plan this properly."
I nod, though he can't see it. "Understood. When?"
"Two hours, maybe less."
"We'll be ready."
I end the call and turn back to Melania.
"Damiano is sending Matteo and Noah to bring us to the Feretti estate," I tell her. "We'll plan the approach to Leonardo there."
Her eyes lift slightly. "The estate? I thought?—"
"If we're bringing your brother into this, Damiano wants to be directly involved," I explain. "And frankly, the estate is the most secure location we have. If Raymond's people find us again we'll have more firepower.
We have an advantage. No one can know that the Ferettis are helping you. We need to use that."
She nods, twisting her mother's ring. "When do we leave?"
"Two hours. Maybe less." I step closer, pulling her to me. "Are you sure about this, Melania? About Leonardo?"
Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear. "No. But I'm sure we need to try."
My mind is muddled about Leonardo—wondering if my brother will help us or if I'm making a fatal mistake trusting him.
The sound of car doors slamming outside pulls me from my thoughts.
"It's Matteo and Enzo," he says, his voice tight. "Stay here."
I hear muffled voices in the entryway, then footsteps approaching the kitchen. Alessio returns with two men—Matteo, whom I recognize from our previous brief encounter, and another man I've only glimpsed once before.
The second man—Enzo—walks into the kitchen with the confident stride of someone who owns every room he enters. His sharp hazel eyes scan the space before landing on me, his expression unreadable.
"Are you ready?" Enzo asks, directing the question to Alessio.
That's when it hits me. This is the man who pressed that chemical-soaked cloth against my face when I tried to fight back. The memory of struggling against his grip while darkness claimed me flashes through my mind.
"It wasn't really nice of you," I say, meeting his gaze directly, "to drug me unconscious when we first met."
Enzo turns to me, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he studies me like I'm some puzzling artifact he's discovered. His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile.
"If you think it would've been kinder for me to kick you, as you tried to do to me," he says, his voice smooth and dangerous, "we can always repeat the experience. Your choice, Lombardi."
"Enough," Alessio says, his voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. He steps slightly forward, positioning himself between Enzo and me. "We don't have time for this."