The plan came from Avilio.
Three days after the total war declaration, he laid out the opportunity with cold precision.
"Tigre," Avilio said, spreading intelligence reports across the brewery table. "Don Orco's top enforcer. The one who planned the coordinated attacks. He's meeting suppliers tomorrow night. Warehouse district. Light security. It's our chance."
"Our chance for what?" Rio asked, though he already knew.
"Assassination. Take out their best tactical mind. Cripple their offensive capabilities." Avilio's voice was matter-of-fact. "Ganzo's approved the operation. Nero's coordinating. They want us leading it."
"Why us?"
"Because we're good. Because we've proven ourselves." Avilio met his eyes. "Because this is what we do. Or did you forget?"
The barb landed. Rio hadn't forgotten. But somewhere between infiltrating the Vanetti family and falling for Nero, the mission had become complicated in ways he couldn't untangle.
"Who else?" Rio asked.
"Four soldiers. Vanno's leading them. We provide tactical support and execution." Avilio's expression was unreadable. "Simple job. In and out. Tigre dies. We send the Orcos a message."
"Nothing about war is simple."
"This is." Avilio leaned forward. "Unless you're having second thoughts. Unless you're too compromised to do your job."
"I can do my job."
"Can you? Because lately you've been more focused on protecting Nero than executing the mission."
"That's not fair—"
"It's completely fair. You're emotionally compromised. Everyone knows it. The question is whether you can still function when it matters."
Corteo had been silent, working his equipment. Now he spoke. "This is dangerous. Tigre's not some low-level soldier. He's Orco's best. If this goes wrong—"
"It won't," Avilio said. "Not if everyone does their job."
He was looking at Rio when he said it.
---
The briefing at the Vanetti mansion was tense.
Nero laid out the intelligence. Warehouse location. Tigre's expected arrival time. Escape routes. Complications.
"This is high risk," Nero said, looking around the room. Rio, Avilio, Vanno, four other soldiers. "Tigre's dangerous. Professional. He won't go down easy."
"Neither will we," Vanno said. His enthusiasm had dimmed since the war started, but loyalty remained absolute. "We get in, we get him, we get out. Like the pier."
"The pier was defensive. This is offensive. Different dynamic." Nero's eyes settled on Rio. "I need to know everyone's committed. No hesitation. No second-guessing. When the moment comes, we act."
"We're committed," Avilio said.
"Rio?" Nero asked directly.
Everyone was looking at him. Weighing. Assessing. Wondering if the rumors about him and Nero affected his capability.
"I'm committed," Rio said.
Nero held his gaze for a moment. Then nodded. "Good. We move at midnight. Ganzo will coordinate from here. Any questions?"
No one spoke.
"Then get ready. And—" Nero's voice softened slightly. "Come back alive. All of you."
The meeting dispersed. Rio moved toward the door.
"Rio. Wait." Nero's voice. Private.
The others filed out. Soon it was just them.
"Are you okay?" Nero asked quietly.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you've been distant. Because this is dangerous. Because—" Nero moved closer. "Because I'm sending you into a situation where you might die and I'm terrified of that."
"I'll be fine. I always am."
"That's not statistically possible. Everyone's luck runs out eventually."
"Not mine." Rio tried to smile. "I'm hard to kill."
"You're not invincible. Despite what you seem to think." Nero's hand came up. Touched Rio's face. Gentle. "I need you to come back. Understand? Not as an associate. Not as a soldier. I need you specifically to survive this."
The words hit hard. Because they were honest. Real. The kind of vulnerability that Nero rarely showed.
"I'll come back," Rio said. "I promise."
"Don't promise. Just do it."
They stood close. Too close for professional distance. Not close enough for what they both wanted.
"After this," Nero said quietly. "After the war. We need to figure out what this is. What we are. No more hiding. No more pretending it doesn't matter."
"Nero—"
"I'm serious. I'm—" He stopped. "I'm in love with you, Rio. And I know that's complicated. I know the timing is terrible. But I need you to know. Before you go into danger. I need you to know."
The fragments screamed warnings. This is the worst possible complication. This makes betrayal impossible. This destroys everything.
"I know," Rio said softly. "I feel the same."
Nero kissed him. Desperate. Like it might be the last time.
It might be.
---
Midnight arrived too fast.
The team assembled in the warehouse district. Dark. Industrial. The smell of rust and river water.
Rio checked his weapons. The fragments supplied tactical information automatically. Sight lines. Cover positions. Escape routes.
Vanno was nervous. Trying to hide it. Failing.
"First assassination mission," Vanno said quietly to Rio. "I've killed people. In fights. Self-defense. But this is—"
"Different. I know."
"How do you do it? Stay calm?"
Because I've died violently enough times that death feels familiar. Because fear is just another fragment from lives I don't remember.
"Focus on the mission. Don't think about the person. Just the objective." Rio met his eyes. "And remember why we're doing this. Tigre planned the attacks that killed our people. This is justice."
"Is it? Or is it just revenge?"
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
Vanno accepted that. Checked his weapon again. "Nero said to bring you back safe. Said you're important."
"He said that?"
"Not in those words. But I could tell. The way he looked when he said your name." Vanno smiled slightly. "He cares about you. A lot. More than just as an associate."
Rio didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
"It's okay," Vanno said. "I won't tell anyone. But—be careful. With him. With the family. Caring about people in this business gets you killed."
"I know."
"Do you?" Vanno's voice was serious. "Because I care about Nero like a brother. And I'm watching him care about you the same way. And I'm terrified of what happens when—" He stopped. "Just be careful. Both of you."
The warning was kind. Well-intentioned. Based on concern for his friend.
It made Rio feel worse.
Because Vanno was right. Caring was dangerous. And Rio cared too much about too many people who were going to get hurt when the truth came out.
"Target approaching," Avilio's voice, cold and focused. "Get in position."
They moved. Split into pre-planned positions. Rio and Avilio on the main approach. Vanno and two soldiers on the flanks. Two more covering the exits.
Classic ambush formation.
The fragments approved. Good tactics. Clean execution possible if everyone does their job.
Tigre arrived exactly on schedule. Big man. Heavily built. Moved with the confidence of someone who'd survived dozens of fights. Three bodyguards with him.
Seven targets total. Seven against four skilled combatants plus three average soldiers.
Doable. Dangerous, but doable.
They let Tigre and his men enter the warehouse. Let them commit to the meeting. Let them relax slightly.
Then Avilio gave the signal.
---
Gunfire shattered the quiet.
Rio's fragments took over. Muscle memory from lives spent in combat. He dropped one bodyguard before the man could draw his weapon. Shifted. Dropped another.
Avilio was already moving. Cold. Efficient. Brutal.
The soldiers opened fire from their positions. Caught the Orco men in crossfire.
It should have been over in thirty seconds.
It wasn't.
Because Tigre was everything the intelligence said—professional, skilled, dangerous. He moved like someone who knew combat intimately. Used cover. Returned fire with precision.
One of the Vanetti soldiers went down. Shot through the throat. Dead before he hit the ground.
"Flank him!" Vanno shouted. Moving. Trying to get an angle.
Tigre shifted. Caught Vanno exposed. Fired.
Rio moved without thinking. Threw himself between Vanno and the bullets. Again. The same choice he'd made for Nero.
The fragments screamed: You can't save everyone! Prioritize mission over individual lives!
But Rio's body was already moving. Already protecting.
The bullet hit his vest. Impact massive. Knocked him back. Into Vanno. Both of them tumbling behind cover.
"What the hell are you doing?" Vanno gasped.
"Keeping you alive."
"You're insane—"
"Focus!"
The fight devolved into chaos. Close quarters. No room for tactics. Just survival.
Rio's fragments guided every move. Duck. Fire. Roll. Reload. His body knew this. Had done this countless times.
Tigre was falling back. Wounded but not down. Heading for the exit.
"He's running!" one of the soldiers shouted.
"Cut him off!" Avilio ordered.
But Tigre was fast. Professional. He knew when a fight was lost. Knew survival mattered more than pride.
Rio intercepted him at the exit. The fragments positioned him perfectly. Weapon raised. Clear shot.
Tigre froze. Knew he was caught.
"You're Vanetti?" Tigre's voice was rough. Breathing hard.
"Does it matter?"
"It matters." Tigre's eyes were calculating. Assessing. "You're new. I've seen reports. Rio Ceriano. Former Chicago operator. Too skilled for your background. Too effective."
"And?"
"And you're interesting. The kind of interesting that raises questions." Tigre smiled despite the blood. "Tell me—does the Vanetti family know who you really are?"
The question landed wrong. Because it implied knowledge Tigre shouldn't have.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rio said.
"Don't you? Chicago speakeasy owner who fights like a professional. Shows up in Lawless right when war starts. Gets close to Nero Vanetti specifically." Tigre coughed. Blood on his lips. "Someone's been digging. Someone curious about the new associates who appeared so conveniently."
"Who?"
"Does it matter? The questions exist. The doubts exist." Tigre's smile widened. "You should kill me now. Before I share what I know."
Rio should. Should pull the trigger. Should eliminate the threat.
The fragments agreed: Execute. Remove the complication. Mission first.
But Rio hesitated. Because Tigre knowing something—or claiming to know something—meant information was leaking. Meant their covers might be compromised beyond repair.
"What do you know?" Rio asked.
"Enough to destroy you. Not enough to be certain." Tigre coughed again. "But I have theories. And theories become investigations. And investigations become—"
Avilio appeared. Shot Tigre twice. Center mass. Professional execution.
Tigre went down. Stayed down.
"Why did you hesitate?" Avilio demanded.
"He was talking. I wanted information—"
"He was stalling. Hoping for rescue. You let emotion compromise the mission. Again." Avilio's voice was ice. "Get your head together or you're going to get us all killed."
They secured the scene. Confirmed the kills. Retreated before Orco reinforcements arrived.
One Vanetti soldier dead. Two wounded. Mission accomplished but messy.
Exactly the kind of messy that raised questions.
---
Back at the mansion, Nero was waiting. Relief visible when they walked in.
"You're alive."
"Mostly," Vanno said. "Rio saved me. Again. Took another bullet doing it."
Nero's eyes found Rio's. Complicated emotions. "You keep doing that."
"Someone has to."
"Not you specifically. You're not invincible."
"Could've fooled me," Vanno said. "Guy's taken two bullets in two weeks and barely slowed down. Whatever they're feeding you in Chicago, I want some."
The joke fell flat. Because people were noticing. The impossible healing. The consistent survival. The skills that didn't match the background.
Don Vanetti entered. Ganzo behind him. Both assessing the team.
"Tigre's dead?" the don asked.
"Confirmed," Avilio said.
"Good. That cripples their offensive planning. Well done." The don's eyes swept over them. Stopped on Rio. "You took another bullet."
"Yes, sir."
"For Vanno."
"He was exposed. I was closer."
"That's becoming a pattern. Taking bullets for my people." The don's voice was unreadable. "That's loyalty. Or something else. I haven't decided which."
The weight of scrutiny was palpable.
"Just doing my job, sir."
"Your job is staying alive long enough to be useful. Dead associates aren't valuable." The don moved closer. "How is it you heal so fast, Ceriano? Bullet wound through the shoulder three weeks ago. Combat ready within days. Tonight you take another hit. Tomorrow you'll be functioning again. That's not normal."
"Good health, I guess."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
The don studied him. Then nodded. "Get that looked at. Then rest. We'll debrief properly tomorrow." He turned to leave. Stopped. "Ceriano. One more thing."
"Yes, sir?"
"Tigre said something before he died. Something Ganzo's contacts reported." The don's eyes were sharp. Dangerous. "He claimed to have information about you. About your background. About questions that need answering."
Rio's stomach dropped. The fragments screamed warnings.
"What kind of information?"
"That's what we're going to find out. Tomorrow. My office. You, me, Ganzo, and anyone else with concerns." The don's voice was steel. "Time to clear up the mysteries, Ceriano. All of them."
He left.
The room was silent.
Nero looked stricken. Vanno looked confused. Avilio looked coldly satisfied—like pieces were falling into place exactly as he'd planned.
"Rio—" Nero started.
"Not now."
Rio left. Walked through the mansion. Out into Lawless night. Breathing hard.
The mission was collapsing. Tigre's words had catalyzed something. The don's suspicion was active now. Tomorrow would bring interrogation. Investigation. Questions Rio couldn't answer without exposing everything.
The fragments whispered: This is it. The moment where it all falls apart. The midpoint where the mission fails or transforms.
Rio kept walking. Not toward the brewery. Not toward anywhere specific. Just away.
His phone rang. Nero.
Rio didn't answer.
It rang again. He turned it off.
Somewhere in Lawless, Avilio was probably celebrating. The pressure on Rio meant the mission was advancing. Meant chaos was coming. Meant Angelo's revenge was closer to execution.
Somewhere else, Corteo was probably mourning. Knowing this was the beginning of the end.
And somewhere in the Vanetti mansion, Nero was probably worried. Scared for Rio. Not knowing that Rio was the threat.
The fragments offered no comfort. Just the certainty that tomorrow would change everything.
That the careful balance Rio had maintained—infiltrator and lover, spy and friend, weapon and person—was about to shatter.
And when it did, everyone would burn.
Rio walked until dawn. Until exhaustion overtook adrenaline. Until the weight of impossible choices pressed so hard he could barely breathe.
Then he went back to the brewery.
Slept for three hours.
And woke to face the interrogation that would destroy everything.