The silence in the Moretti dining room shattered instantly. Rocco's words hung in the heavy air like a loaded weapon.

Rocco stood in front of him in the dim light, sharpening a hunting knife with slow, rhythmic strokes. The metallic scraping sound was the only noise in the room.

"You're wasting your time, Rocco," Marcus muttered through broken teeth, offering a bloody grin. "The Syndicate already knows what happened. If I don't check in by sunrise, the council will dispatch fifty elite hit squads to burn this mansion to the ground—with you, your maid, and your precious newborn inside."

Rocco stopped sharpening the blade. He looked up, his expression terrifyingly calm. "Let them come. I built this city's foundation in blood, and I can wash it in blood just as easily." Rocco leaned in close. "Who on the council ordered the hit on my son? Give me names, Marcus. Every single one."

Marcus chuckled weakly. "You think... you think it was just the council? It was... cough... it was part of a larger alliance. Valentina's family financed the merger. They wanted absolute control over Moretti Shipping."

Rocco didn't blink. He slid the knife smoothly into Marcus's shoulder, eliciting a sharp, agonizing scream that echoed down the concrete hallway. "Names, Marcus. Or the next cut goes deeper."

Before Marcus could answer, the heavy security door at the end of the cell block burst open. One of the guards ran in, breathless and bleeding from a minor arm wound.

"Boss! We have a breach! Perimeter alarms are tripping all over the west wing. A heavily armed convoy just breached the estate gates!"

Rocco stood up immediately, wiping his blade clean on a rag. He didn't look back at Marcus. "Lock down the house. Secure the master panic room. Get Elena, Sophia, and my son inside immediately."

"And Marcus, sir?" the guard asked.