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The captive tried to rise. Atlas planted the heel of his shoe between the man’s shoulder blades and drove him back to the ground. “One living mouth seemed more useful than another corpse.”

Tone moved beside Archie. Their shoulders touched. Both still carried weapons, and neither had lowered them.

The prisoner lifted his head. His gaze travelled toward the upper windows before settling on Raze and Izzy, who stood with Rose cradled between them.

“You have children sleeping inside.”

Archie stepped forward. I caught his arm. The prisoner smiled through the blood on his teeth.

“Tonight, they woke to gunfire.”

Archie tore free of me. Tone caught him before he reached the man, locking both hands around his forearm and using her weight to hold him back.

“Archie.”

Her voice stopped him where force would have failed. He turned his head toward her. The same murderous promise burned in both their faces.

“Not yet,” Tone warned.

Archie looked back at the prisoner. “These are my children. My family. My home.” His voice dropped until the courtyard seemed to lean toward it. The prisoner’s smile weakened. Archie stepped as far as Tone’s grip allowed. “Speak about them again, and I will pull your tongue out through your throat. After that, I will remove everything that made you a man and send the pieces to the people who gave you your orders.”

The smile disappeared.

Tone’s fingers remained locked around Archie’s arm.

Raze approached the man. Rose’s cries still carried faintly behind him, and each one stripped another layer of control from his face. He crouched before the captive and seized him by the hair, wrenching his head back viciously until the man gasped.

Raze studied him with a cold attention devoid of emotion.“You attacked my home. You wounded my brother and frightened my daughter.” His grip tightened until the prisoner’s neck strained. “You have one chance to convince me your death should take longer than theirs.”

Raze nodded toward the bodies across the courtyard. “What do the Coccicos want?”

The prisoner lifted his bloodied face.

“You have their property. They want it returned.”

Raze’s fingers closed around the man’s jaw. He tightened his grip until the man’s teeth ground together.

“And if we refuse?” he asked.

The prisoner looked past him at the bodies scattered across the courtyard.

“You’ve already seen the answer.”

Raze followed his gaze.

Dead attackers lay across the drive and terrace. One had fallen against the fountain, his blood running through the water. Another remained twisted beneath the shattered window he had tried to enter. Cavalho guards carried the wounded toward the house while the medical team worked over Marcello’s arm.

Raze looked back at the prisoner before he released his jaw and rose.

His gaze moved over the shattered windows, the bullet-scarred walls and the blood spread across the stones of his home. It settled briefly on Marcello, pale but upright with Samira beside him. Then he looked at Izzy. She stood at the foot of the steps with Rose against her chest. Their daughter had stopped crying, but her small body still trembled beneath the blanket. Izzy held her tightly, one hand cupped over the back of her head as though she could shield the child from the memory of gunfire.

Whatever fury Raze felt disappeared behind a colder expression. The prisoner watched him and seemed to understand too late that anger might have been safer.

“The Coccicos they made a mistake tonight,” Raze muttered.

The man was silent.

“They fired into rooms where our children were sleeping. They wounded one of my brothers and killed men protecting my family.”