Chapter Thirty-Two - Shock Value

James spreads the maps across the table again, this time cleaner—no blood, no alarms, just routes and names.

Aria stands opposite him, hands braced on the edge like she’s already inside the building we’re planning to breach.

“We need more information,” James says. “Confirmed movements. Names. Timelines.”

Aria nods once. “Then I know where to get it.”

I don’t like the way she says that.

“Talk,” I tell her.

She looks up at me. “My father’s club. The one on the south side. If I walk in there—alive—it’ll stun them. My brothers won’t expect it. No one will.”

James’s jaw tightens. “That’s a suicide run.”

“It’s shock,” Aria counters. “And shock makes people sloppy. I’ll get the jump on them before they recover.”

“You’re not going in alone,” I say immediately.

She exhales, already irritated. “I didn’t say—”

“You’re not,” I repeat. “End of discussion.”

James nods. “Agreed.”

The room heats up fast.

“I know that place,” Aria snaps. “Every corner. Every exit.”

“And they know you,” I fire back. “Which is exactly why it’s dangerous.”

Her eyes flash. “That’s exactly why it works.”

We talk over each other for a moment—strategy versus instinct, control versus opportunity. James keeps trying to cut through the noise, but it’s Danika who finally does.

“I’ll go with her.”

The room goes still.

I turn to my sister. “No.”

She meets my gaze without blinking. “Yes.”

“Danika—”

“She needs a second body,” Danika says calmly. “Someone they won’t expect to shoot immediately. Someone who can move and talk.”

James considers it. “She’s right.”

I hate that he’s right.

“I’ll be outside,” I say finally. “James and Rocco with me. The second you’re clear, we move.”

Aria’s shoulders loosen slightly—not relief, but resolve.

James looks at her. “How do you get your brothers to talk?”

A faint smile touches her mouth. “I have a few ideas.”

“Such as?”

“There’s a pill,” she says. “Truth serum. Fast-acting. Slips into a drink easily.”

James nods. “Effective.”

“But unnecessary,” Aria adds. “My youngest brother, Ryan—he worships me. Always has. He’ll talk without pressure.”

“And the older two?” I ask.

Her expression hardens. “If they’re there, it complicates things.”

Danika smirks. “They won’t be a problem.”

I glance between them—Aria, composed and deadly; Danika, smiling like she’s already picturing the chaos.

“Then it’s settled,” I say. “You get in. You get information. You get out.”

I look directly at Aria.

“And if anything goes sideways—”

“I don’t improvise,” she says. “I adapt.”

That earns a thin smile from James.

I don’t smile.

Because the truth is simple:

Walking into her father’s club alive won’t just be a shock.

It’ll be a declaration.

Danika claps her hands once.

“Alright,” she says briskly. “Time to change.”

Before Aria can argue, Danika grabs her by the arm and starts dragging her toward the stairs like she’s late for an appointment instead of headed into a potential bloodbath.

Aria doesn’t resist.

She doesn’t even look back.

I watch them go, a slow smirk tugging at my mouth.

Only Danika could treat a trained assassin like a fashion emergency and live to tell the story.

I turn back to the table just as Marco appears, face tight, jaw clenched like he’s been holding this in for too long.

“This is a bad idea,” he says flatly.

I don’t respond.

Someone else might mistake that silence for permission.

Marco doesn’t.

He presses anyway.

“Someone’s going to get hurt,” he continues. “And I don’t want you getting killed by some stupid girl trying to play hero.”

That’s when I turn.

Slowly.

The room drops ten degrees.

I take a step toward him. Then another. I stop just close enough that he has to lean back slightly to keep breathing room.

“Say that again,” I tell him quietly.

Marco swallows. “Boss, I just—”

“You just called her stupid,” I interrupt, voice calm, lethal. “And you just implied I can’t handle her.”

His eyes flick around the room, searching for backup.

He won’t find it.

“Let me explain something to you,” I say, lowering my voice even further. “Aria Moretti isn’t playing hero. She’s correcting a mistake.”

I lean in.

“And the only reason she hasn’t killed anyone in this house is because I told her not to.”

Marco’s throat works.

“You’re afraid,” I continue. “I get that. Fear makes men loud.”

I straighten.

“But you don’t get to insult my judgment. You don’t get to insult my ally. And you sure as hell don’t get to question my survival instincts.”

He opens his mouth.

I raise a finger.

“One more word,” I say evenly, “and I’ll pull you off this operation so fast you’ll forget what room you’re standing in.”

Silence.

Marco nods stiffly. “Understood.”

“Good.”

I turn away from him, already done.

Because Marco isn’t wrong about one thing—

Someone is going to get hurt.

But it won’t be because Aria is stupid.

It’ll be because Vincenzo Moretti finally realized his daughter didn’t inherit her danger from him.

She surpassed it.