I trace the viper tattoo on my wrist without thinking, the way I do when my hands need something to hold and there's nothing left to grip. The espresso machine has been cold for hours. The city lights through my office window cast pale blue lines acrossthe file folders and I can see my own reflection in the glass, a man who looks like he hasn't slept in a week because he hasn't.
I can't do this alone anymore.
I pick up my phone. Two calls. Rafael first. Then Kon.
Rafael answers on the second ring because Rafael always answers because Rafael has carried this family on his shoulders for two decades and the phone is an extension of the weight.
"My office. Now. Bring Kon."
"It's two in the morning, Massimo."
"I know what time it is."
A pause. He reads the silence the way he reads everything. Desperation sounds different from urgency, and Rafael knows the difference. "Twenty minutes."
They arrive together. Rafael in a dark sweater, no jacket, the gray at his temples catching the low light from my desk lamp. Kon behind him in a black t-shirt stretched across his broad frame, his dark hair loose around his shoulders, his eyes already scanning my desk, the files, the cold espresso, the state of me.
Rafael takes the chair across from my desk. Kon leans against the wall by the window with his arms crossed, settling into the stillness that is his default position and his most dangerous one.
"Talk," Rafael says.
I tell them everything.
The Genesis deadline. Harlon's phone call. The ten days that are now three. The runners mapped three blocks south of Redthorne, rotating teams, watching entry points. The Society69 photographs of Harrison. The gambling debts with Sloane's name as collateral. Harrison's refusal to claim duress. Harrison's threat to weaponize Genesis against me. The fact that every legal angle I've pursued for seven days has collapsed because the man who signed the contract did it with his eyes open and his daughter's life as currency.
And the fact that I haven't told Sloane any of it.
The office goes quiet when I finish. The ventilation hums. The city pulses beyond the glass. Rafael sits perfectly still with his hands folded in his lap, his dark eyes fixed on mine with an expression that has settled entire wars and ended men's careers.
"You put the entire Syndicate at risk." His voice is level but the steel underneath it cuts through the quiet room. "Genesis enforcement against a Syndicate member doesn't just threaten you, Massimo. It threatens every alliance we've built. Every agreement Harlon and I have honored. If his runners breach Redthorne, it's an act of war between two organizations that have maintained peace for over a decade."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you've been sitting in this office for seven days playing lone wolf while the rest of us could have been mobilizing. Drake's contacts in federal enforcement could have applied pressure. Rowan's connections could have opened doors we don't even know exist. Julian is still gathering intelligence you haven't asked for because you've been too busy protecting Sloane from the truth to let anyone help you protect her from the threat."
The words land like fists. Each one accurate. Each one earned.
"You're right." I don't defend myself because there's nothing to defend. "I was wrong to handle this alone."
"Yes. You were." Rafael uncrosses his hands and leans forward. "But we're past the postmortem. Three days. What do you need?"
"I need options I haven't thought of. I need pressure on Lorenzo that doesn't come through legal channels. And I need someone to tell me whether I should walk upstairs right now and tell my wife the truth."
Kon speaks from the wall. His voice is quiet, carrying the faint Russian accent that surfaces when something sits close to his chest.
"She deserves to know." Four words. Delivered from a man who bought a woman at auction and learned the hard way what it costs to make decisions for someone you love. "You took her choice away, Massimo. That's what her father did."
The sentence hits me so hard I push back from the desk. My chair rolls and I'm on my feet before I realize I've stood, my hands gripping the edge of the desk, my knuckles white against the dark wood. My throat closes. My jaw locks and the pressure builds behind my eyes and I stare at the surface of the desk because I can't look at Kon right now. I can't look at a man who understands exactly what I've done because he's done it himself.
That's what her father did.
Harrison decided Sloane didn't need to know about Lorenzo. He signed a contract behind her back and called it protection. He made choices about her body, her future, her life without once asking what she wanted. And I sat in his study and called him acoward for it. I looked him in the eyes and saidyou erased the line.
And then I went home and did the same thing.
Seven days of silence. Seven days of clause thirteen cracking. Seven days of telling myself the lie was a shield when it was a cage. The same cage. Different lock.
"I know." My voice comes out rough. "I know what I did."