The gun went off.
But I wasn’t the one who fell.
Castellano was.
Damiano had been half a second faster.
His bullet tore through Castellano’s wrist.
The old man’s gun clattered onto the marble floor.
Damiano kicked it away and pressed his own barrel firmly against Castellano’s forehead.
“Move.”
His voice was colder than ice.
“And I’ll settle my father’s debt right here.”
Every guard in the hall drew a weapon.
But not one of them pointed at Damiano.
Or at me.
Every barrel in the room aimed at Castellano and Falcone.
That was the law of our world.
Human trafficking.
The desecration of blood.
The sale of children.
Those crossed a line no family could tolerate.
Anyone who touched that filth became the enemy of them all.
Donna Vittoria slowly rose.
Leaning on her cane, she w
