Kidnapping the Assassin: The Mafia Don’s Fatal Mistake

The Blood Contract

Chapter 47

**[Cassian]**

The Rome penthouse was entirely silent, save for the rhythmic, heavy thud of my boots pacing the length of the war room. 

I looked at the heavy cardstock photograph resting on the center of the mahogany table. The red crosshair superimposed over my son’s chest felt like a physical knife twisting deep in my gut. 

Matteo stood near the reinforced door, his assault rifle slung over his chest, his face pale. The Capo had seen me angry, but he had never seen me like this. This wasn't anger. It was a cold, apocalyptic fury that demanded a sacrifice to be satiated. 

The heavy door opened. 

Elara walked into the room. She wore the same dark combat gear she had worn to the textile factory in Milan. Her face was an impenetrable mask of absolute ice. She didn't look at Matteo. She walked straight to the table and stared down at the photograph. 

"Did you kill him?" I asked, my voice a dangerous, low vibration in the quiet room. 

"No," Elara replied, not looking up. "I let him walk out. If I shoot the messenger, I lose the names of the men holding the leash."

"You let an assassin who threatened my son walk away?" I snarled, closing the distance between us. I grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face me. 

She didn't flinch at my grip. Her stormy gray eyes met my obsidian gaze with a terrifying, vacant intensity. It was a look I hadn't seen since the day I unchained her in the basement. 

"If I had killed him in that factory, the seven cartel bosses would have triggered the bounty immediately," Elara stated clinically. "Right now, the contract is dormant. Nine promised to execute them all tonight and terminate the threat."

"And in exchange, you agree to become the new Weaver," I summarized, disgust dripping from every syllable. "You agree to rebuild the Guild and chain yourself to an army of psychopaths."

"It's a small price to keep a bullet out of Leo's chest," she whispered, her voice finally cracking for a fraction of a second. 

"I will not let you sell your soul to save our family!" I roared, the volume echoing violently against the soundproof walls. "I will go to war with the Russians. I will go to war with the Triads. I will turn Europe into a graveyard before I let you surrender yourself back to the darkness!"

"And what if they get lucky, Cassian?!" Elara yelled back, shoving her hands against my chest, her composure completely shattering. "What if one sniper gets lucky while we are fighting a war on seven fronts? We can protect the house. We can protect the perimeter. But we cannot protect him from the entire world forever!"

She collapsed forward, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders violently shaking. 

I instantly pulled her into my arms, wrapping her tightly against my chest. The anger evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming, suffocating helplessness. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, closing my eyes as her tears soaked through my shirt. 

She was right. The Five Families were powerful, but we couldn't fight a global war of attrition. The bounty on Leo would attract thousands of mercenaries. We would spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, waiting for the fatal shot. 

"I have the names," Elara mumbled against my chest, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her tactical pocket. "Nine gave me the manifest as proof."

I took the paper, unfolding it. 

Seven names. The heads of the most powerful remaining syndicates in the world. They were scattered across London, Berlin, and Madrid. 

"I have to let him do it, Cassian," she cried softly, looking up at me. "If Nine kills them tonight, the bounty is erased. I can play the role of the Master. I can manage him."

"No," I said, a dark, terrifying clarity suddenly settling over my mind. 

I looked at the list of names, then back down at my wife. 

"You aren't rebuilding the Guild," I vowed, my voice dropping to a deadly, gravelly whisper. "And Nine isn't executing anyone tonight. He's trying to manipulate you, Elara. He wants to isolate you from me by making you feel like the Viper is the only one who can protect our son."

"Then how do we stop the bounty?" she pleaded. 

I looked at Matteo. 

"Call the airport," I ordered the Capo. "Fuel the jet. Load the heavy ordnance."

Matteo nodded sharply, pulling his radio. "Where are we flying, Don Rossi? London? Berlin?"

"We aren't flying to any of them," I replied, a cold, predatory smirk curving my lips. "We're going to make them come to us."

I turned back to Elara, cupping her tear-stained cheek in my scarred hand. 

"The underworld thinks the king and queen of Rome are getting soft in our ivory tower," I murmured, my obsidian eyes locking onto hers. "They think they can put a price on our bloodline and hide behind their armies. It’s time we remind them exactly why they used to be afraid of the dark."

Elara stared at me, the clinical assassin recognizing the brilliant, brutal strategy forming in my mind. 

"You want to use ourselves as bait," she realized, a slow, dangerous breath escaping her lips. 

"I want to send an invitation," I corrected, grabbing my sidearm from the table and racking the slide with a terrifying, definitive *clack*. "Pack your gear, Viper. We have a party to host."