Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF PROTECTION
Emma wanted to leave my house.
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Neither was my answer.”
“Dominic.”
She stood in my office wearing jeans and one of Lucia’s sweaters because her bruised ribs still made normal clothing painful.
“My mother is in Ohio. Nathan is there too.”
“They have security.”
“They have strangers with guns.”
“Trained security.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“No. It’s supposed to keep them alive.”
She turned away.
I understood her frustration.
Protection could look a lot like imprisonment when someone else controlled the doors.
So I changed my answer.
“You can leave.”
She turned back.
“But?”
“No but.”
That surprised her.
“I’ll give you security if you want it. If you don’t, I won’t force it.”
“Why?”
“Because too many people in this story have already decided what was best for you.”
Emma stared at me.
That was the moment something shifted between us.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Trust.
More dangerous.
She sat down.
“I’ll stay.”
“Because?”
“Because leaving just to prove I can would be stupid.”
I almost smiled.
“Good.”
“Don’t look pleased.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
A little.
That evening, Rose called.
Her oncologist had received notice that New Hope was withdrawing funding.
No explanation.
Emma went pale.
“They’re punishing her.”
Yes.
Katarina had found another weapon.
Medical bills.
The cruelest kind.
I told Emma I would cover treatment.
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
“This is not charity.”
“It feels like it.”
“Then call it restitution.”
She frowned.
“For what?”
“For my family failing to protect yours.”
She looked away.
“That wasn’t you.”
“Maybe not.”
“Then stop inheriting every dead man’s guilt.”
Nobody had ever said that to me.
My father’s promises.
My uncle’s betrayals.
My cousin’s crimes.
I had spent years acting as if every Castellano failure belonged on my shoulders.
Emma saw it in one sentence.
“We’ll find another way,” she said.
So we did.
Lucia connected Rose with a legitimate national cancer assistance program.
No favors.
No hidden strings.
No Castellano money.
Funding approved in forty-eight hours.
Emma cried when she found out.
Quietly.
In my kitchen.
I pretended not to notice until she said:
“You can stop pretending you don’t see me.”
That hit harder than it should have.
“I always see you.”
Silence.
Her eyes lifted.
We both realized what I had said.
Then Marco entered at exactly the wrong—or right—moment.
“Boss.”
I stepped back.
“What?”
“Federal team found Katarina.”
“Where?”
“Not yet arrested.”
“Why?”
“She wants immunity.”
Emma laughed bitterly.
“For beating me?”
“Katarina claims she never ordered the beating.”
We stared at Marco.
“She says Adrian did.”
My jaw tightened.
“And the message signed K?”
“Katarina.”
“So she ordered Emma taken.”
“Yes.”
“But alive.”
“Yes.”
Emma folded her arms.
“That distinction is not making me feel better.”
Marco continued.
“Katarina says Adrian changed the plan after he learned Emma wore your crest.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to trigger you.”
I understood instantly.
If I retaliated against Kolov violently, federal investigators would see renewed organized-crime conflict.
Adrian could weaken both sides.
Maybe take control afterward.
Classic.
Cowardly.
Effective.
“Katarina will testify?” I asked.
“If we help recover something Adrian stole from her.”
“What?”
Marco looked at Emma.
“Thomas Caruso’s original ledger.”
Emma frowned.
“We have it.”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
“What we found in the church was the duplicate.”
I stared.
Thomas had given my father one copy.
Kept a second.
That should have been two.
Marco continued:
May you like
“There was a third.”
And according to Katarina, Adrian had it.
