The air was heavy and static as the helicopter descended onto the landing pad carved into the jagged cliffs of Zay's mountain estate. Thunder rolled across the sky like an omen, and the wind howled through the peaks as if warning them to turn back. But none of them did. Not this time.
Dante was the first to step out. Dressed in all black, his eyes were shadowed beneath his hood, and his jaw clenched like it had been for years. He didn't bother looking around. He knew where he was. He remembered. Leo followed, stepping lightly, dressed in soft grays and navy blues, always the one to appear calm even when the world cracked open beneath his feet. He glanced at Dante but said nothing. Words had lost their meaning long ago. Malik arrived by car from a private airstrip nearby. Dust from his recent travels still clung to his boots, but the man who emerged was no longer the charming strategist of their youth. There was a storm in his eyes to match the one above.
Inside the estate, Zay stood alone in the grand room, a fire burning low in the massive stone hearth. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, untouched. The thick and tense silence wrapped around them all as the others entered.
The table was long, carved from dark wood, burnished by time and conflict. Once, it had been where strategies were drawn, and victories toasted. Tonight, it felt more like an altar. The Pact hadn't shared a table in years since the fallout.
Zay poured whiskey into each glass. No one declined. The silence wasn't just heavy; it was sacred. Even Dante, usually the most reserved, drank without hesitation. It burned down, but none of them flinched. The pain was familiar.
A full spread had been laid out — steaks, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, aged cheese. Zay had insisted. Not because any of them had much of an appetite but because ritual mattered. And this was a kind of funeral for the men they used to be.
The first twenty minutes passed in near silence. Occasional small talk. A few jabs from Malik about Zay's obsession with order. Leo chuckled once, quietly. It was... human.
But the shift came when the plates cleared and the second round of drinks was poured.
Dante, seated stiffly, finally spoke. "I saw Sab. She has changed but she is still our little girl."
Zay frowned. "Let's start from what we all know before Go on."
Leo set down we get to you Dante... Leo brief us on your findings" took a sip from his glass and exhaled. "I followed up on old contacts. Paid off a few silent sources in Central Europe. This led me to a private clinic outside Prague, pulled medical records ." He glanced at Dante, who gave a reluctant nod. "Sabrina didn't just disappear."
He paused for a beat.
"She was pregnant when she left."
The room exploded.
Zay shot to his feet, fists clenched. "You knew this and didn't tell us?!"
Malik's chair scraped against the stone floor as he stood, his voice rising. "You both knew? You kept this to yourselves all this time?"
Leo didn't flinch. "We didn't know for sure until last year. And even then, we weren't certain the child.. children were—"
"Spare me the rationalizing," Zay snarled. "This was our Sab. You don't get to choose what parts of her story we deserve to know."
Dante finally looked up, his voice low but deadly. "You didn't see her, Zay. You didn't see the fear in her eyes. She was running from something — maybe even from us. I didn't tell you because I didn't know what kind of father any of us deserved to be. And I didn't want to break what was left of this already cracked thing between us."
"You didn't want to break it," Malik echoed bitterly. "But you did."
The silence returned, but this time, it buzzed with something volatile. Regret. Rage. The weight of too many sins.
Zay ran a hand over his jaw, the muscle ticking. "Do we know who the father is?"
"No," Leo answered. "The records didn't say. Sabrina used aliases. But… if you want my opinion—"
"We don't," Zay cut in.
Dante met Zay's eyes. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. But I ask you to stop thinking this is just about control, loyalty, or territory. It's about a woman we all broke. A woman we all loved."
Zay looked away, jaw clenching. "She trusted me. She told me she felt watched. She told me she needed space. I didn't listen."
"She told all of us things," Malik said. "And none of us heard her."
They sat down again — slower this time. Heavy with memory.
Leo reached into his coat and pulled out a flash drive. "I brought something. Footage. Security cams from the clinic. It's not much, but… it shows her. At the clinic entrance holding the babies and there is a man besides her. "What do you mean? Dante asks, "Why do you tell me if you recognize him?" Leo responds.
Zay took it like it was a live grenade, connects it to the screen and focus expounds on the picture more especially of the man because her security comes forst. No one immediately recognizes him, but Dante is stunned he can identify a mafia from afar, and he just identified one. No one likes the look on his face, and they all realize things are not as easy as they thought.
"We regroup tomorrow," he said quietly. "Tonight… we sit with what we've done."
The fire cracked softly as they stared into it, lost in thoughts none could speak aloud.
And upstairs, in the farthest room of the mountain estate, a spare bedroom sat untouched, prepped months ago on instinct.
No one knew Zay had put it there.
Yet.