(Liam Romano POV)
The warehouse smelled of dust, motor oil and the metallic weight of a choice that would echo through everything I’d built. The order for Parker hovered in the air, waiting on my confirmation. Costa was a finger on the other end of the line—ready, lethal, precise.
The Accountant’s voice kept looping in my head: “The soft get cut.” They watched me, measured my moves, deciding if my usefulness had expired. My weakness was a deadly luxury, and I had shown too much by caring about a woman and her children.
Her children. Isabella — my blood, the piece of me I couldn’t afford to lose. And Caleb, Hailey’s boy, proof that my world had bled into someone else’s. I wouldn’t let the fire I’d started consume them.
My phone buzzed. Neri’s message: “I and C stable. C asks about H. I
