Page 11 of Oath of Protection (Blood Oath Bargains #1)

ELEVEN

FAMILY BUSINESS

The compound's war room hadn't been used for actual war planning in five years. Nico stood at the head of the polished mahogany table, studying the faces of men who'd sworn loyalty to his family, trying to determine which ones he could still trust.

Sal sat at the far end, his silver hair catching the afternoon light streaming through bulletproof windows. Matt occupied his usual spot to the right, legal pads covered in notes and contingency plans. Tony paced behind them, his agitation filling the room like smoke.

And he stood by the door, alert and professional, like he belonged there.

"The Kozlovs made their intentions clear," Nico said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Professional hit team, military-grade equipment, coordinated assault. This wasn't intimidation—it was an execution attempt."

"Which failed," Matt pointed out, his pen tapping against his notepad. "Thanks to excellent security protocols."

Tony stopped pacing long enough to shoot a glare at Cam. "Security protocols that nearly got my brother killed."

"Security protocols that kept him alive," he corrected, tone respectful but firm. "If we'd been in the penthouse or at Romano's like they expected, this would be a funeral planning meeting."

The room went quiet. Tony's face darkened, but he didn't argue the point. Even his ambition wasn't stupid enough to contradict obvious facts.

"The question," Sal said slowly, "is what we do now. The Kozlovs have declared war whether we wanted one or not."

"We finish it." Nico's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Fast, clean, decisive. Send a message that attempting to kill a Valente has consequences."

"What kind of consequences?" Matt asked, already taking notes.

Nico glanced at him, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. They'd discussed this during the ride back from their extraction point, and his tactical insights had been invaluable.

"We hit their leadership structure," Nico said. "Not the foot soldiers—the men giving orders. Make it clear that if they want to play with professionals, they'll get professional responses."

Tony's expression shifted to something that might have been approval. "I like it. Quick and brutal."

"Surgical," he corrected. "Minimal collateral damage, maximum impact. Take out decision-makers and let the organization collapse from within."

"And you know how to do this?" Sal's question was directed at Cam, but his eyes never left Nico's face.

"He knows," Nico said before Cam could respond. "Military training, tactical expertise. He's already identified target priorities and approach vectors."

The words meant more than strategy. He was bringing him into the inner circle, and everyone in the room knew it. Matt's pen stopped moving. Tony's jaw tightened with barely controlled anger.

"Since when," Tony said carefully, "do we involve outsiders in family business?"

"Since those outsiders save my life and earn the right to contribute." Nico's tone was calm, final. "He stays. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave."

The challenge hung in the air like a thrown gauntlet. Tony's face went through several expressions before settling on careful neutrality. Walking out now would be tantamount to admitting he cared more about ego than family loyalty.

"Fine," he said. "What's the plan?"

He moved to the table, spreading out photographs and building layouts with military precision. "Three primary targets. Alexei Kozlov, the operational commander. Viktor Petrov, their financial strategist. And Dmitri Volkov, who handles enforcement and recruitment."

"How do we get to them?" Matt asked.

"Simultaneously. Three teams, coordinated strikes, no advance warning." His finger traced routes on the photographs. "Kozlov operates out of a shipping warehouse on the east side. Petrov uses an accounting firm downtown as his front. Volkov runs a gym that's really a recruitment center."

"Manpower?" Sal's question was practical, businesslike.

"Fifteen men total. Five per target, plus coordination and backup." He glanced at Nico. "All volunteers. Nobody goes in who doesn't understand the risks."

Tony leaned forward, studying the tactical breakdown. "What about police response?"

"Timed for maximum delay. Hit all three locations within a ten-minute window, extract before first responders arrive. Clean, professional, no evidence linking back to family operations."

Nico found himself impressed despite having heard this plan before. Cam had outlined strategies that most military officers would struggle to coordinate, accounting for variables that experience had taught him to consider.

"Timeline?" Sal asked.

"Forty-eight hours," Nico said. "Gives us time to coordinate teams and equipment without losing momentum."

"And if they hit us first?"

"They won't. They're regrouping, trying to figure out how their professional hitters failed." His voice carried absolute certainty. "Military operations require planning time, especially after a failure. We have a window."

Sofia appeared in the doorway, her presence immediately shifting the room's energy. "Dinner in twenty minutes," she announced, her gaze sweeping over the tactical photographs with practiced indifference. "All of you."

It wasn't a request. Sofia Valente didn't make requests when it came to family meals.

"Ma," Nico started.

"Twenty minutes." Her eyes found him. "You too, young man. You've been shot at enough for one day."

She disappeared before anyone could argue, leaving behind the faint scent of garlic and rosemary that meant serious cooking was happening in the kitchen.

"You heard her," Sal said, standing slowly. "We continue this after dinner."

As the room emptied, Tony lingered behind, expression carefully neutral. "Nico. A word."

He started toward the door, but Nico caught his arm. "Stay."

"This is family business," Tony said, his voice carrying warning.

"So is he." Nico didn't release Cam's arm. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of him."

Tony's control finally cracked. "What the hell is this, Nico? You're bringing outsiders into war planning? Making tactical decisions based on some hired gun's opinion?"

"I'm making tactical decisions based on expert advice from someone who's kept me alive while our security fell apart." Nico's voice stayed level, but steel ran underneath. "Someone who spotted Torrino's problems before we did. Someone who saved both our lives yesterday."

"He's not family."

"Neither was Marco. Neither was Vincent. Neither are half the men we trust with our lives every day." Nico stepped closer to his brother. "Family isn't just blood, Tony. It's loyalty. It's competence. It's being willing to die for something bigger than yourself."

"And you think he's willing to die for us?"

Nico glanced at Cam, seeing steady confidence in his expression. "I think he already has. Multiple times."

Tony's gaze shifted between them, politician's instincts recognizing currents he couldn't quite identify. "This isn't just about security, is it?"

The question hung between them, loaded with implications. Nico felt him tense beside him, preparing for whatever family drama was about to unfold.

"This is about keeping the family alive and strong," Nico said carefully. "Everything else is secondary."

"Is it?" Tony's voice carried doubt. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're more concerned with keeping him happy than keeping the family unified."

"The family is unified. You're the one creating divisions."

"I'm the one asking reasonable questions about operational security and family loyalty." Tony straightened, reasserting his authority as underboss. "Questions Pop would be asking if he wasn't blinded by relief that you're still breathing."

The words stung more than Nico expected. Sal had been unusually accommodating about his integration into family operations, accepting his presence with minimal resistance. But was that strategic thinking or emotional reaction?

"My job," Nico said slowly, "is to make sure this family survives and prospers. If that means bringing in outside expertise, then that's what I do. If you have a problem with my judgment, take it up with Pop."

Tony's expression shifted through several emotions before settling on resignation. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do."

"For all our sakes, I hope you're right."

He left without another word, footsteps echoing down the hallway toward the dining room. Nico stood in the sudden quiet, aware of his presence beside him, aware of the weight of decisions that would ripple through the family for years to come.

"He's not wrong," Cam said quietly.

"About what?"

"About the risks. About bringing outsiders into family operations." Cam turned to face him. "About me not being family."

"You're wrong about that last part."

"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you're taking risks you shouldn't take. Making compromises that could get people hurt."

Nico studied his face, seeing conflict in his expression. "You having second thoughts about the plan?"

"I'm having second thoughts about my role in it. About whether I'm becoming a liability instead of an asset."

The admission hit harder than it should have. Nico had been so focused on integrating him into family operations that he hadn't considered the pressure it would create, the way it would force him to choose between professional distance and personal loyalty.

"You're not a liability," Nico said. "You're the reason I'm alive to have this conversation."

"Today. What about tomorrow? What about when family politics start affecting tactical decisions?"

It was a fair question. One Nico didn't have a good answer for.

"We'll figure it out," he said finally.

"Will we? Because your brother's right about one thing—this isn't just about security anymore." Cam's voice was quiet, honest. "And I'm not sure I know how to navigate whatever this is becoming."

Before Nico could respond, Sofia's voice echoed down the hallway. "Dinner! Now!"

They walked toward the dining room together, but the conversation hung between them like unfinished business. Nico had gotten what he wanted—him integrated into family operations, accepted as more than just hired security. But acceptance came with complications he hadn't anticipated.

Family politics. Divided loyalties. The weight of decisions that affected more than just two people finding their way toward each other.

As they entered the dining room, where his family waited with wary acceptance and barely concealed questions, Nico realized that bringing him into the inner circle might have been the easy part.

Keeping him there was going to be the real challenge.