Page 159 of Wounded King

"She had something to say before she… stepped down." I keep my eyes trained on him. His calm façade is just that.

He doesn't ask what she said. He waits for me to continue. "She said my brother didn't die because of an accident. She said it was the Russians who killed him. Grigori Arsenyev."

Toni's expression doesn't change. Not much. But his hand tightens on his knee. A small twitch in his neck betrays him. I've seen that before—right before he puts a bullet in someone's head.

"I see," he says, putting the glass on the table next to him, straightening his tie. "Then you also know that it was me who helped make it look like an accident?"

I nod, draining my glass.

He nods back. "So what are you going to do?"

I meet his gaze. Hard. No games. He came clean right away. "Nothing. We have bigger goals. My brother was a piece of shit. If anything, his death was a favor."

I might not have seen it that way when I was first summoned back to the States, but if I hadn't been forced back here, I would have never met Violet. After meeting her, I cannot imagine a life without her in it. And in some fucked up way, I owe that to Toni, so yeah, we're good.

He watches me carefully, like he's still weighing how far my loyalty stretches. I watch him back, calculating the same, not allowing him to see where my mind has drifted.

What I appreciate most is what hedoesn'tsay. He's not making any excuses. No justifications. No groveling about Grigori or how complicated things were. Toni's the kind of man who keeps his mouth shut when it counts—and that's exactly the kind of man I need on my side.

"What else did she say?" Toni wants to know.

"That Raffael is her and Don Leonardo's illegitimate child."

He wasn't rattled when he told me about Angelo, I note. But this? This shakes him. And for good reason. Because if Raffael is Leonardo's bastard… he's not just a ghost from Margarita's past, he's a threat to all of us. He's not as crude as Roberto, not as short-sighted as Edoardo, and if he's inherited even a fraction of Margarita's cunning or Leonardo's cold ambition… then he's playing a very long game.

The kind of game that doesn't end in blood, but in crowns.

"Now what?" Toni asks, eyeing me carefully. He knows about Sophia and Raffael. He's asking about my allegiances.

"We need to find out where exactly he stands, what kind of man he is," I clarify. "I'm not standing by watching my sister get hurt again."

Toni nods slowly, but he's still reading me, trying to measure how far I'm willing to go. Whether blood outweighs logic.

"If he's loyal, we keep him close," I continue. "Use what he knows, what he's built. But if he's playing us…"

I trail off, letting the implication hang heavy between us. If he's playing us, he won't be the first man I've buried who shared my table.

"I'll deal with him," I finish coldly. "Leonardo's blood doesn't buy him immunity. And Margarita's legacy sure as hell doesn't earn him trust."

Toni's mouth twitches, half approval, half warning.

"Careful," he says. "Sophia's not going to let you make that call easily."

"She won't have to," I lie.

Because if it comes down to protecting her or protecting him… there is no decision to make.

I'll choose my sister every damn time.

"Alright, let's set another meeting with Stephano and Enrico. I think we also need to dig deeper into the Venezuelan connection—especially Edoardo—and then call a full family sit-down. Push for avoto di sfiducia," I suggest.

After the failed assassination attempt, my father's trial, and his death, I haven't had time to look as deeply into the Venezuelans and their ties to Edoardo as I promised I would.

"There's definitely something there," Toni says, pulling out his phone. He taps through a few screens and holds it out to me. "Here—and here," he points to two wire transfers on separate accounts. Then swipes to another image. "Same amount. Same day. Same time. This one landed in the account of Yesenia Montilla—Matías Rivera's cousin's sister-in-law."

I raise my eyebrows, impressed. "That took some digging."

He nods. "Our new guy—Como Strosso—he's been burning through Alfonzo's records day and night."