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She seems unsure, but she still drops my hand and allows me to make my way to my son. I have not seen this boy in weeks. And within that time frame, he somehow managed to plant doubt in Maria’s head.

I come up beside him and lean my elbows on the counter. At first, I want to come in guns blazing and drill into him for being so stupid, but my wife’s voice rings in my mind like my conscience telling me to keep things in check.

The boy reeks of whiskey and cigars.

“Daniele.”

He doesn’t acknowledge me at first. Just tips his glass back, draining the last of his drink before setting it down and looking to get another. He drank two in the five minutes it took me to walk over here.

“I see you’re doing well,” I say, my tone carefully neutral. Daniele is like a bomb. One snip on the wrong wire and he’ll blow. I need to proceed with caution.

Daniele lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I see they let the trash in again—I had hoped that a bullet would find its way into your chest by now, Papá.”

I hear a gasp from nearby, and several people turn their heads to us, but no one intervenes.

“You’re drunk,” I state, eyeing the way he sways slightly as he reaches for another glass. I grab it before he can get hold of it. “Give him another and I will have your hands sliced clean off.”

The bartender’s eyes widen, and he nods frantically before taking the glass from my hand and walking away.

Daniele clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “You ruin all my fun, Matteo. Surely you have better things to be doing than bothering me. How about killing more of your in-laws?”

I step closer, looking around to see if anyone has heard his words. “I think you have gone a step too far, son.”

Daniele rolls his eyes, his breath fanning my face as he straightens to look me dead in the eyes. “And what are you going to do about it, Davacalli?”

I keep my expression unreadable. “I’m still your father. And I always will be.”

Daniele’s smirk is slow, bitter. He lowers his voice just enough for only me to hear. “Are you, though? The last I checked, we don’t share an ounce of DNA.” He tilts his head to the side. He looks me up and down in disgust. “You are nothing to me, Matteo. Not anymore.”

Everything inside me turns to ice. My heart clenches at his words, and I feel the guilt slowly creep out from beneath the surface. I don’t move, don’t react, but the toxic concoction of rage and pain fills my system. It sears through my veins and scorches every part of me.

I see the way he watches me—waiting to see if I’ll snap. He’s testing me. Pushing me. And it takes everything in me not to wrap my hand around his throat. But then there is another part of me that wants to pull him to my chest and remind him that he is my son—blood or not.

“Tell me, Papá, how well does your new bitch fuck? I should have taken her for a test drive before I left Italy; that body of hers is enough to make a man weak in his knees.”

“Daniele.” My blood rises in temperature. “Watch yourself.”

“Or what?” Daniele shoves me back, but I only stumble a few steps. The little jab is enough to earn us more eyes.

Before I can do anything, Dario is suddenly between us, a firm hand pressing against my chest. He gives me an eye, telling me that I need to keep my emotions in check.

“Oh, goody, the class monitor is here to save the day,” Daniele mocks. “Dario, I see you have decided to side with the scum of the earth.”

“Enough,” Dario says, his voice calm but edged with warning. “Daniele, I suggest you walk away before things turn ugly for you. Your father may not want to ram your head in due to his love for you, but I am not your father and will level you where you stand.”

Daniele smirks like he’s won something. He takes a slow step back before he does a dramatic bow.

“Enjoy the gala, Don Davacalli. I would watch your step these days, though. People are feeling a little trigger-happy lately—me, to name one. It would be a shame if one of my bullets found its way into you or your wife.”

I let out a low warning growl.

Daniele’s smirk deepens. “I will be seeing you very soon, Davacalli.”

I watch my son walk away from us. With each step he takes, I feel the heaviness in my chest cement itself further.

My fists clench at my sides, and then I move my gaze to Dario. “Thank you.”

“I think it would be better that you don’t get into a fistfight with your son in the middle of this shitshow of an event.” Dario pats my shoulder. “We do need to speak about something, though.”

Immediately, I am on high alert again. “What?”

Dario watches me for a long moment before shaking his head. “Not here. Come.”

I look back to try and find my wife.

“Maria will be fine. She has Ginny, and I have guards posted all over here,” Dario reassured me. “This can’t wait.”

I take his word for it and follow him out of the ballroom. We make our way to a terrace, the chill of the New York air whipping against my skin. But the cold does give me some relief from the tension riddling my body.

Dario rubs a hand down his face. “Emily’s been spotted.”

“Where?”

“New Jersey,” he says. “She was moving with someone called Blade, a glorified henchman. He has ties to the Russian Bratva and Giacomo.”

“Fuck. Do we have an exact location of where she is? An address? She could be on the next plane out of the country for all we know.”

“I’ve kept my eyes on her. If she so much as breathes, I will know about it,” he tries to assure me. “We need to keep her alive for now; her time will come. The first one we need to go after is Giacomo.”

We exchange a look, one that says more than words ever could. We both want to put the bastard down once and for all. He came for our women and threatened their lives. No one does that and lives to tell the tale.

“We’re going after his trafficking ring,” Dario says. “We burn it down. Every contact, every operation. We make it impossible for him to do business and cripple him. Like we discussed earlier with Valerio. We now have an exact docking date.”

I nod once.

“The only concern we will have is your son.” Dario holds my gaze. “When it comes to it, Matteo, you will likely be on opposite sides with him. Meaning his gun will be pointed right at your head.”

That is something I am unwilling to accept. I will bring sense back into my son, even if it is the last thing I do.

“I will handle my son, Dario.”

His eyes tell me that he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t voice his opinions, thankfully. I am in no mood to get into it with anyone else tonight. War is on the horizon, and we need to all be ready.

We’ll strike first. And this time, we finish it.