Page 112 of Forgive Me, Father

The only way to remind the Castellos, and anyone else circling like vultures, that what was ours wasn’t up for negotiation.

The armory door creaked open, revealing the familiar steel cages stacked with weapons, gleaming like old friends waiting for a fight.

As if on cue, every man headed for the racks, reaching for the weapons that felt like extensions of their own rage.These weren’t just soldiers, they were brothers, ready to fight, ready to avenge.

Nico moved fast, his eyes sharp with focus.He slung a duffel over his shoulder and started filling it, his hands flying over the gear like he’d done it a thousand times.There was a grin tugging at his lips, the kind of grin only war or chaos could bring out in him.Like a kid let loose in a candy store, except every sweet came with a trigger.

I reached for the Benelli M4 Super 90, reliable, brutal, mine, and then my preferred Glock 34.Smooth, lethal, efficient.

Without a word, I tossed a handful of magazines to Nico.Today wasn’t about diplomacy.Today was about delivering a message, loud and clear.

As I checked the chamber, Camilla’s face flashed into my mind—soft, fierce, untouchable.

It made me pause.She was mine to protect now—my responsibility, my anchor in a world that never stopped bleeding.I couldn’t charge into this without thinking of her, not anymore.

I slid the Glock 34 into the holster at the small of my back, the cold steel grounding me.The Benelli shotgun hung heavy across my shoulder, a brutal reminder of the storm we were walking into.

I’d call her from the SUV.

In the end, my father joined us—suited up and silent, but ready.Arnie handed him his Heckler & Koch P30L, and without a word, he slid it into the holster at his hip.

I had to give it to him, he might drag his feet when it came to war, but once the line was drawn, he knew how to lead.

“Let’s move,” he said, voice sharp and steady.We fell in behind him without hesitation.

I climbed into the SUV with Roberto and my father.We were heading to Frederick’s estate—it wasn’t far, but the air felt heavier the closer we got.

As the engine rumbled beneath us, I pulled out my phone and called Camilla.I needed to hear her voice before everything changed.

“Everything okay?”she asked, her voice soft but edged with worry she clearly didn’t want me to hear.

“She’s hurt—my sister—but she’ll live,” I said, keeping my voice steady, calm.No use dropping the weight of the truth on her now.

“I’m so sorry, Alfonso.What happened?”

“An accident.”A lie, clean and easy, because the truth would only instill fear.

“Send her my love.”

“I will.”I exhaled through my nose, glancing out the window at the blur of streetlights.“I’ll probably be back later tonight.”

“You don’t have to rush back.I’ll be fine.”

I almost smiled.“I hate being away from you this long.”I didn’t care who was listening.Truth didn’t ask for permission.

“Aww, so you miss me, but you don’t love me?”Her tease cut through the heaviness in my chest like a warm knife.

I drew in a breath.She had no idea how easily she quieted the storm.

“Don’t go playing with my toys,” I muttered.

Her laugh was pure mischief.“Party pooper.”

The call got disconnected and the smile disappeared from my lips.

It might not be the last time I heard her voice, but it could be.You never really know.

I typed out a quick message, something simple but real, then slipped the phone into my pocket just as Frederick’s estate came into view around the bend.The air shifted, heavier now.Game face on.