Chapter 8
Dominic Sarto was not at the hunting property.
He had left an hour before Thomas arrived.
That told me Javier had warned him somehow.
I checked phones.
Nothing.
Then Mia solved it.
“He whistled.”
I looked at her.
“Who?”
“Uncle Javier.”
She demonstrated.
Two short whistles.
Then one long.
One of the bodyguards near the patio went pale.
I saw it.
“You.”
He shook his head immediately.
Too fast.
I walked toward him.
“What does that signal mean?”
He said nothing.
Thomas moved behind him.
The man finally answered.
“Abort.”
There.
A guard inside my own detail.
Name: Caleb Morse.
Six years with Romano security.
Trusted.
Quiet.
Exactly the kind of man old factions prefer.
“How long?”
He looked ashamed.
“Two years.”
Javier laughed softly.
Caleb turned on him.
“You said children were never targets.”
Again.
The lie that keeps decent people participating one step too long.
Javier shrugged.
“Leo was never in danger.”
Caleb’s face hardened.
“He was face-down under your knee.”
The faction was beginning to argue morality after helping build the machine.
Useful.
Late.
I looked at Caleb.
“Who else?”
“No.”
Thomas stepped closer.
I raised one hand.
No threats.
Caleb needed one thing more than fear.
A choice.
“You can protect Dominic’s structure,” I said, “or you can tell me who else thinks my children are acceptable leverage.”
He stared at the ground.
Then gave me six names.
Two captains.
One bodyguard.
One household manager.
One family friend.
And my aunt Rosa.
My father’s older sister.
Of course.
Old family change always had a matriarch somewhere calling cruelty tradition.
I knew Rosa loved my children.
At least I thought I did.
“She knew about Leo?”
Caleb hesitated.
“Yes.”
Something in me hardened.
Love that permits harm because it believes the harm is useful is not protection.
It is ownership.
Then Caleb added one more thing.
“Rosa didn’t want Leo taken.”
I looked at him.
“What did she want?”
“She wanted Mia.”
Silence.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because Dominic wanted the son trained.”
Pause.
“Rosa wanted the daughter shaped.”
There it was.
Two old factions.
One boy.
One girl.
Different methods.
May you like
Same arrogance.
My children’s futures had been divided between adults before anyone bothered asking them who they wanted to become.
