Page 116 of Lupo

"A different one than most kids have. But not necessarily worse." Ciro shrugs. "My son went to good schools. Had birthday parties. Played soccer. Had friends over, with security checks, yes, but he had friends. He had a childhood. It was just a protected one."

"And when he's old enough to understand? When he asks about what we really do?"

"You tell him the truth. Age-appropriately." Ciro's expression is serious. "My son knows I'm not a saint. But he also knows I'm a good man who does hard things to protect our family. He respects that. And someday, Elena will too."

I want to believe him. Want to believe that I can have both, this life and them. That I can keep them safe without ruining them.

"You're thinking too much," Ciro says. "Overthinking this. The question isn't whether you should bring them into this world. You don't have a choice: they're already in it, whether they know it or not. The question is whether you bring them in properly,with protection and resources, or leave them vulnerable on that farm."

"You make it sound simple."

"It is simple. Not easy, but simple." He moves back to the maps. "First, we handle Florence. We eliminate the immediate threat. Then you bring them here, you set up proper security, you establish rules and boundaries. You teach Elena to swim in that pool. You give Isabella a life where she doesn't have to worry about money or survival. And you all figure out how to be a family, a protected, careful family, but a family nonetheless."

I look at the maps, at the plans that will make them safe. Then I think about the pool, the villa, the life I could give them here.

A protected life. A wealthy life. A strange life.

But a life together.

"What if she says no?" I ask quietly. "What if Isabella doesn't want this for Elena?"

"Then you convince her. You show her that this is the only way. That you're not asking her to choose between safety and normalcy, you're offering her the only real safety there is. Here. With you. Protected." Ciro's voice softens. "And if you can't convince her, then you do what you have to do anyway. Because the alternative is leaving them vulnerable, and that's not an option."

"You mean bring them here whether she wants to come or not."

"I mean do whatever it takes to keep them alive." Ciro holds my gaze. "That's what being a father means sometimes. Making the hard choices. Even when they hate you for it."

The words settle over me. He's right. About all of it.

I can't go back to being Lupo the construction worker. That man was an illusion. A temporary escape from who I really am.

I'm Don Rossi. I've always been Don Rossi. And Don Rossi doesn't get to live on a quiet farm and pretend the world will leave him alone.

But Don Rossi can protect his family. Can give them everything they need. Can keep them safe in a way Lupo never could.

Even if it means changing their lives completely.

"Okay," I say finally. "After Florence, I bring them here. We do this right."

"Good to hear that." Ciro smiles, genuine warmth in his expression. "They'll be safe here, boss. And you'll be happy. I've never seen you happy before you met them. This is a good thing. You deserve it."

"Do I?"

"You saved my son. You've saved dozens of people. You take care of your family, your organization family. Yeah, you've done terrible things. But you've also done good things. And those two people, the woman and the little girl, they see the good in you." He pauses. "Maybe it's time you saw it too."

I don't know if I can. Don't know if there's enough good in me to deserve them.

But I know I'm going to try.

Even if I have to become a monster to everyone else to do it.

"Let's go over the plan again," I say, turning my attention back to the maps. "Every detail. I want this perfect."

"It will be." Ciro moves beside me, pointing out positions. "We end the Florence threat. And then you can go home. Bring your family home."

Home.

I study the maps again, at the carefully planned violence that will make my family safe. And I make a promise to myself. I will protect them. No matter what it takes. No matter what I have to do.