The house felt heavier, the walls themselves pressing in with the weight of everything we were preparing for. The calm after Castellano's death was deceptive. While we might have bought ourselves a brief reprieve, I knew that Ferraro's storm was fast approaching.
I checked on Ava once more, brushing a hand gently across her forehead as she slept. The rise and fall of her chest, the peace in her innocent face—it reminded me of why we had to win this fight. Why I couldn't back down. Ferraro wouldn't hesitate to use her against me if he found a way. And that was something I couldn't let happen.
I slipped out of her room, closing the door softly behind me. Martha met me in the hallway, her face tight with worry, though she tried to offer a reassuring smile.
"How's she doing?" she asked, her voice low.
"Still sleeping," I whispered back. "I don't want her to wake up into the middle of all this chaos. Not if we can help it."
