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Jason whistled softly. “Okay. So, what's the issue?”
“We don’t have much to go on. Star’s dictation app caught the conversation, but there’s no mention of a target, a timeline, or a location. Just enough to know someone’s life might be at risk.”
“Wait.” Jason's voice hitched slightly. “Dictation app?”
Ethan winced. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”
He gave a streamlined, sanitized version of Star’s display debacle, leaving out her climbing the shelves like a mountain goat and omitting the cascade of paint cans entirely.
Jason listened in silence until Ethan finished.
“Okay,” Jason said at last. “How good of a friend is this friend?”
Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Let’s just say I have some pretty big hopes for the future.”
Jason snorted. “Uh-huh. Big hopes, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, his tone turning more serious. “Look, I already ran her background. She’s clear. Her family history's spotless—except for one distant blip. Two generations back, her great-uncle, Nico Conti, was an accountant for the Bianchi faction of the Russo Mafia family. He left her the house next door, but she never met him. She inherited the place, knew nothing about his background, and is in the middle of renovating it.”
Jason exhaled audibly. “Shit.All right, what do you need from me?”
“Permission to loop Elliot Sawyer in. I don't want to expose my Guardian affiliation, but I need his insight and NYPD contacts to figure out what these guys might be planning.” Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “Max and I think if they believe Star heard something, she could become a loose end.”
"Yeah, they don't leave any loose ends when it comes to the Bianchi family.” Jason paused. "Wait, did you just say Max?”
Ethan couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
Jason let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “Max. As in the elusive Max? The mentor you've been bitching about for the last decade?”
“The very one,” Ethan confirmed, his grin widening.
“Well, hell,” Jason said, his voice filled with genuine surprise. “That’s a step in … some sort of direction. I wasn’t prepared for that.”
“Neither was I,” Ethan admitted. “But at least now I have a name. Calling himassholeandson of a bitchwas getting redundant.” Ethan would never disclose they’d been sparring for years. If Max wanted anyone to know, he’d tell them.
Jason’s booming laugh filled the line. “Andwhyexactly were you calling him those names?”
“Are you kidding me?” Ethan shook his head with mock disbelief. “If you knew half the crap that man put me through …”
Jason’s laughter continued, rich and unrestrained. “Well, considering he’s been handpicking your challenges since you were barely out of your teens, I can imagine.”
Ethan chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Yeah. But he’s taught me more than I could’ve ever imagined.”
Jason’s voice sobered. “Yeah. He does that. All right, Ethan. I'll authorize you to pull in Sawyer, but be careful. The Bianchis aren't small-time hitters—they’ve got deep pockets and dangerous connections.”
“Understood.”
“Keep me updated. And, Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck with the neighbor.” He laughed, but as his laughter faded, his tone shifted to something more measured. “Max told me you're ready to take over whenever he decides to walk away.”
Ethan's eyes shifted across the sea of monitors in front of him, each screen displaying live data streams, system statuses, and the endless hum of Guardian's global operations. His fingers tapped absently on the desk as he processed the words.
“I'm ready,” he said quietly.
“No,” Jason said, with no amusement in his voice. “Not really.”