“Because a son will do whatever his father says. He’ll do anything to protect him.” If he loves him, at least. “That device was Brian Cormac’s get-out-of-jail opportunity, and we fucked it up for him at the rave.” All because Daniel wanted some extra cash. The weight of all of this was too damn much with my son at the center. I had to sit.

“Someone with enough power and money capable of swapping Cormac’s prison records could change them with a much lesser sentence, right? Like a get-out-tomorrow kind of thing. And then Cormac would come to New York and run things, starting up The Alliance’s new base of operations in New York free of The League’s presence,” Izzy suggested.

“But why bother to change Cormac’s records to one with a similar sentence time last month?” I wound up answering my own question a moment later. “To hide Cormac’s connection with The Alliance in case anyone came looking into his background. Someone doesn’t want The League knowing The Alliance is trying to reboot, so they’re keeping their hands free of this. Same reason mercenaries were outsourced today to try and take Colin as well.”

“I understand that part, but I’m still struggling to wrap me head around what these New York Sicilians could have that’d be of any value to help relaunch The Alliance, let alone to arrange such a deal with Cormac in the first place. If what you say is true, if they wanted Cormac out of prison, they could change his records now and set him free, no deal needed,” Sean pointed out.

“Which means someone believes that only Jamie can get his hands on this device, and they’re holding Cormac’s freedom as leverage over Jamie’s head until he gets it for them,” Hudson suggested.

“No, it’s not Jamie they need.” I covered my face, my body going cold and numb as it hit me. “It’s Colin. They need my son.”

41. Juliette

Chapter 41

Juliette

A dark cloud had been hovering over Constantine’s head for the last hour and a half, and he’d gone out of his way to avoid being alone with me since he came downstairs from his father’s office.

I could physically feel the secrets he promised he wouldn’t keep hanging between us, making it hard to even fake a laugh at Salvatore’s surprising self-deprecating jokes or smile anytime his mother shared a sweet moment with Colin.

If Constantine didn’t talk soon, I’d have no choice but to ask him for answers in front of everyone at the dinner table we were setting.

It was now eight thirty, which apparently, was a regular dinner hour for Italians.