Leone
I feel it before I hear it—that shift in the air when something’s gone sideways. My phone buzzes with a text from Marco, one of my scouts positioned near the old country road. Six cars, all black, headed for the cabin. Nathan’s mother’s place. My gut tightens as I slide the phone back into my pocket.
Milo catches my eye from across the room. He’s mid-conversation with Rocco, whom we came to check on while we waited for Mikhail’s’ next request, twenty years of brotherhood means he can read the tension in my shoulders like it’s written in neon. He excuses himself and crosses to me, his movements fluid.
“Problem?” he asks, voice low.
“Mikhail’s making a move. Seems Nathan was right, his mother’s place.”
His jaw ticks, the only sign that the news affects him at all. “How many?”
“S
