We went over the logistics of the plan again and again. Stripping a man like Arturo of his power, and taking him alive, wasn't something you approached lightly. Every variable had to be accounted for. Every exit sealed. Every contingency mapped.
By the time we finalized everything, it was well past midnight.
One of his men had pulled Alex aside to discuss something related to their own operations, their voices low and urgent. I stayed behind, gathering the empty plates and glasses, carrying them to the kitchen while the others organized their documents.
A few offered to handle it, but I declined.
I needed to do something with my hands. I needed the distraction. The rhythm of running water, the scrape of porcelain, the clean order of small tasks. It grounded me in a way strategy never could, especially at an uncertain time like this.
"Mrs.Barinov."
Sergio stepped beside me and took a plate from the counter, turning on the faucet. He rinsed while I worked the soap over the next one.
"You don't have to do that," I murmured, not looking at him. "I can manage."
"What you did today," he said, his voice taut, "that took a lot of restraint."
I paused, sponge suspended in midair.
"If someone in my family had betrayed me the way they did..." He exhaled through his nose. "They wouldn't have walked out of that room."
There was no bravado in it. Just fact.
"Then again," he added quietly, "I never really had a family to lose."
I set the place down slowly and turned to him.
"What is it, Sergio?"
His jaw flexed once.
"I need a favor." His eyes met mine directly now. "Please leave Camilla out of this."
I held his gaze, searching for the angle. Did he caught feelings for her now?
"And why," I asked quietly, "would you suddenly care what happens to Camilla?"
His expression didn't harden. But it didn't soften either.
"You weren't concerned about sparing her before."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"You used her," I continued. "You made sure she understood exactly how little power she had."
"I know."
The words came low.
I folded the dish towel over the counter. "So explain it to me."
He exhaled slowly, like he had been holding it for a while.
"I never intended to truly hurt her," he said. "Not the way it turned out."
I remained silent.
"I was following orders," he said evenly. "She was one of my assignments."
I didn't interrupt.
"I didn't think I'd feel something for her towards the end."
"And now you feel guilty."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"Even if she will never believe that again," he added. "Even if you don't agree."
The admission wasn't dramatic. It was controlled, measured.
"Boss is my family," he continued. "The only one I've ever had. My loyalty is his first. It will always be to him first."
There was no apology in that. Just fact.
"If he tells me to move, I move. If he tells me to break something, I break it."
His eyes lifted to mine again.
"But this—" he gestured vaguely, meaning Arturo, the fallout, the war that was building, "this is different. We've already destabilized her life enough. Her father, her future, all those alliances around her."
His voice dropped.
"She's paid enough for games she never chose to play."
I studied him carefully.
"And if my husband decides otherwise?"
"Then I follow him," he said without flinching.
A beat.
"But if you have influence over that decision...I'm asking you not to make her the next casualty."
The kitchen felt smaller suddenly, quieter.
"You don't have to worry about that, Sergio," I said quietly. "She was my best friend. I grew up with her. I know exactly what we've taken from her."
I swallowed. "You have my word. I'll do everything I can to keep her out of this. When this is over, she'll be safe."
Sergio studied me for a moment, then gave a single nod before excusing himself.
Silence settled in the kitchen.
"What was that about?" Alex's voice came from behind me, low and controlled.
I felt him before I turned. The warmth of his body. The quiet dominance of his presence.
I dried my hands slowly. "He asked me to leave Camilla out of it."
Alex stepped closer. His fingers brushed my waist, then settled there, firm but unhurried. He pressed a kiss against my bare shoulder. Not possessive, not demanding. Just there.
"Aren't we?" he murmured against my skin. "I thought that was already understood."
I leaned back into him despite myself. "Arturo is still her father."
His arms tightened slightly around me, his hard length pressing against my back.
"No matter how monstrous your parents are," I continued softly, "they're still your parents. When this happens...it's going to break something in her. And we've already broken enough."
He was quiet behind me.
Then his lips moved from my shoulder to the curve of my neck, slower this time. Thoughtful.
"You're still protecting people who hurt you," he said.
"I'm protecting what's left of her."
His hands slid higher, anchoring at my ribs as if he was steadying the both of us.
"If she becomes leverage," he said, voice dropping, "I won't hesitate."
I turned in his arms then, forcing him to look at me.
"I know," I said. "That's why I'm asking you now."
Something flickered in his expression.
"I know how much you care for her," he said at last, brushing his thumb along my jaw, "that you're still harboring the guilt for what you've done. And for that, we'll keep her out of this. Unless she chooses to step in."
"That's good enough for me," I said, pressing a kiss to his lips.
It wasn't hurried. Nor was it desperate. It was a quiet seal on a promise.
Alex's hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he deepened it just slightly, enough to remind me that beneath the strategist and the kingpin, he was still my husband. That he loved me desperately. That he was still the man who would burn cities down just for me.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"You're exhausted," he murmured.
"So are you."
"I can function on two hours of sleep," he said. "You can't."
I scoffed softly. "I've done worse."
"Yes," he agreed. "And I don't intend to let you."
His tone shifted into something more protective, deliberate.
Tomorrow wasn't just another move on the board. It was the beginning of dismantling a legacy that shaped my entire life. Arturo. The voting council The New York fronts. Every lie my grandfather had built.
Alex brushed his thumb along my jaw, the same place he had earlier.
"For you," he said quietly, "we'll keep her out of it. Unless she chooses to step in."
I searched his face, looking for any hint of calculation. There was none. Just certainty.
Then his hands slid down to mine, lacing our fingers together.
"Come on," he said. "Big day tomorrow."
He didn't even give me the chance to protest. He guided me out of the kitchen, past the dimmed lights and quiet hallway, past the men stationed like silent sentinels. His hand never left mine.
At the small bedroom door, he paused, studying me as if he was remembering this moment.
"You don't carry this burden alone anymore," he said.
It wasn't just a promise, it was a fact.
Then he opened the door and ushered me inside, into our small bedroom for the night. Shutting the world, and the war, all our problems, out for the night. Because tomorrow, we would begin tearing everything down.
For real this time.