14. United Front

CHAPTER 14

UNITED FRONT

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as Antonio and Damien stood side by side, facing down the combined might of the Benedetti and Lombardi families. Vivian's eyes blazed with barely contained fury, while Marco's face was a mask of cold disapproval. The other family members and lieutenants ranged around the opulent conference room, expressions varying from shock to disgust to morbid curiosity.

"This is unacceptable," Vivian spat, her voice low and dangerous. "Antonio, I raised you better than to throw your lot in with our greatest enemy."

"And you," Marco growled, turning his steely gaze on Damien. "I thought I made myself clear about the consequences of pursuing this... dalliance."

Damien's hand found Antonio's, fingers intertwining in a silent show of solidarity. "With all due respect," he said, voice steady despite the muscle ticking in his jaw, "Antonio isn't some 'dalliance.' He's the man I love. The man I choose, over everything else."

A ripple of shocked murmurs ran through the assembled crowd. Antonio squeezed Damien's hand, drawing strength from the older man's unwavering presence.

"And I choose Damien," Antonio declared, lifting his chin defiantly. "I know you don't approve, Mom. I know you're worried about me repeating your mistakes. But Damien isn't Marco. What we have... it's real."

Vivian flinched at the mention of Marco's name, pain flashing across her face before she masked it with anger once more. "You have no idea what you're getting into, Antonio. The danger, the violence?—"

"Actually," Damien interrupted, his grip on Antonio's hand tightening, "that's exactly why we called this meeting. There's a bigger threat than our families' feud, one that puts all of us in danger."

He nodded to Antonio, who stepped forward and began outlining what they'd uncovered about the coalition gunning for both families. As he spoke, laying out the evidence they'd gathered and the potential consequences if they didn't act quickly, Antonio felt a swell of pride at how far he'd come. No longer the spoiled brat coasting on his family name, but a man who could hold his own in this dangerous world.

When he finished, silence reigned for a long moment. Then Marco leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "And why should we trust this information? For all we know, this could be some ploy to manipulate us into accepting your... relationship."

Damien's laugh was harsh and humorless. "Because if we wanted to manipulate you, old man, we wouldn't have bothered with all this. We'd be halfway to Mexico by now, living it up on a private beach somewhere."

"Instead," Antonio added, unable to keep a hint of sass from his voice, "we're here, trying to save your ungrateful asses."

Vivian's eyes flashed, but before she could reprimand him, one of the Benedetti lieutenants spoke up. "He's right. I've been hearing whispers about increased activity from some of the smaller families. If what they're saying is true..."

"We need to act," Damien finished. "Now. Before they can make their move."

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, arguments and counter-arguments flying. Antonio felt a headache building behind his eyes, the stress of the situation threatening to overwhelm him. Then Damien's arm slid around his waist, pulling him close.

"You're doing great, baby boy," he murmured, lips brushing Antonio's ear. "Just breathe. We've got this."

Antonio leaned into Damien's solid warmth, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Thanks, Daddy," he whispered back, relishing the way Damien's breath hitched at the name.

Their moment of intimacy was broken by Vivian clearing her throat pointedly. "If we're going to do this," she said, her voice cutting through the noise, "we need a plan. A real one, not some half-cocked scheme cooked up by two lovesick fools."

Damien's eyes narrowed at the insult, but Antonio laid a calming hand on his chest. "You're right," he said, meeting his mother's gaze. "That's why we need all of us working together. Damien and I have some ideas, but we need your experience, your connections."

For a long moment, Vivian just stared at them, her expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, she nodded. "Fine. Let's hear what you've got."

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of strategy and planning. Maps were spread across the massive conference table, intelligence reports pored over, alliances and betrayals dissected. Through it all, Antonio found himself marveling at how seamlessly he and Damien worked together. Where Antonio's quick wit and outside-the-box thinking hit a wall, Damien's tactical mind and years of experience filled in the gaps.

It wasn't all smooth sailing, of course. There were heated arguments, moments when old grudges threatened to derail the entire operation. But each time, Antonio and Damien presented a united front, their unwavering commitment to each other and the plan slowly winning over even the most skeptical family members.

As the final details fell into place, Antonio felt a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration thrumming through his veins. They had a real shot at this, a chance to not only take down the coalition but reshape the power dynamics of Chicago's underworld.

"It's a good plan," Marco admitted grudgingly, running a hand through his silver hair. "Risky as hell, but if it works..."

"It'll work," Damien said with quiet confidence. His eyes found Antonio's, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "We've got the best on our side."

Heat bloomed in Antonio's cheeks at the praise, a familiar warmth pooling in his belly. God, how did Damien still affect him like this, even in the middle of a high-stakes war council?

Vivian's sharp voice cut through Antonio's less-than-professional thoughts. "We move at dawn," she declared, her tone brooking no argument. "I suggest you all get some rest. Tomorrow will be... eventful."

As the room began to clear out, Vivian caught Antonio's arm. "A word," she said, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Damien. "Alone."

Antonio tensed, but Damien just squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Go on, baby," he murmured. "I'll be waiting."

Once they were alone, Vivian's carefully maintained composure cracked. "Antonio," she began, voice thick with emotion. "Are you sure about this? About him?"

Antonio's first instinct was to bristle, to snap back with all the pent-up resentment of years under her controlling thumb. But the genuine concern in her eyes gave him pause.

"I'm sure, Mom," he said softly. "I know it's not what you wanted for me. I know you're scared. But Damien... he sees me. Really sees me, in a way no one else ever has. He pushes me to be better, stronger. And yeah, sometimes he's an overprotective asshole, but..." Antonio smiled, warmth spreading through his chest. "He's my overprotective asshole."

Vivian's laugh was watery, tinged with something like resignation. "You sound like me, you know. When I first fell for your father." Her eyes grew distant, lost in memory. "I just pray your story has a happier ending than mine did."

Before Antonio could respond, she pulled him into a fierce hug. "Be careful," she whispered. "Both of you. I may not approve, but... I can't lose you. Either of you."

Antonio returned the embrace, blinking back the sting of tears. "We will be," he promised. "I love you, Mom."

When they separated, both pretending not to notice the other's damp eyes, Vivian's composure was back in place. "Now go," she said, giving him a gentle push. "Your man is waiting. And knowing Damien Benedetti, he's not the patient type."

Antonio grinned, some of his usual sass returning. "Oh, you have no idea."

He found Damien pacing the hallway outside, tension radiating from every line of his body. The second he spotted Antonio, that tension melted away, replaced by a hungry heat that made Antonio's knees weak.

"Everything okay?" Damien asked, pulling Antonio close.

Antonio nodded, melting into Damien's solid warmth. "Yeah. I think... I think we might actually be okay. You and me, I mean. With my mom."

Damien's eyes softened, a rare vulnerability shining through his usually stoic facade. "Good," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Antonio's forehead. "Because I'm not letting you go, baby boy. Not now, not ever."

The moment of tenderness was broken by the sharp trill of Damien's phone. His expression hardened as he scanned the message. "It's time," he said, voice grim. "The coalition's making their move."

Antonio's heart raced, a potent mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. This was it. Everything they'd planned, everything they'd fought for, came down to the next few hours.

"Let's go kick some ass," he said, flashing Damien a cocky grin that was only slightly forced.

Damien's answering smile was all predator. "That's my boy."

The next few hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos. Antonio found himself at the heart of the operation, coordinating intel and directing strike teams alongside Damien. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

But every time doubt began to creep in, every time the enormity of what they were attempting threatened to overwhelm him, Damien was there. A steadying hand on the small of his back, a murmured word of encouragement, a flash of pride in those stormy eyes.

They made a formidable team, Antonio's quick thinking and ability to adapt on the fly complementing Damien's tactical brilliance and iron control. As they systematically dismantled the coalition's power base, hitting safe houses and cutting off supply lines, Antonio felt a fierce surge of pride. This was what they could accomplish together, a force to be reckoned with.

The final confrontation came at dawn, a fierce firefight erupting at the coalition's main stronghold. Antonio's blood sang with adrenaline as he and Damien fought side by side, moving in perfect sync like they'd been doing this for years.

"On your six!" Antonio shouted, dropping to one knee to take out a gunman trying to flank Damien.

Damien spun, dispatching another threat with brutal efficiency before hauling Antonio to his feet. "Good eye, baby," he growled, eyes blazing with a mixture of pride and possessive heat. "Daddy's got a reward for you when this is over."

Antonio's cock twitched with interest despite the life-or-death situation. "Promise you can get it up, old man?" he purred, unable to resist pushing just a little.

Damien's grip tightened, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Brat," he growled. "Keep that up and I'll bend you over right here, audience be damned."

The image sent a jolt of heat straight to Antonio's core. But before he could retort, a fresh wave of gunfire had them diving for cover.

As the battle raged on, it became clear they were gaining the upper hand. The coalition's forces were in disarray, their leadership scattered or captured. Victory was within reach, the promise of a new era for both families tantalizingly close.

And then, just as they were about to breach the inner sanctum where the coalition's top brass were holed up, everything went sideways.

A explosion rocked the building, the force of it sending Antonio flying. He hit the ground hard, ears ringing and vision blurred. Through the smoke and chaos, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face—one of their own, someone who should have been on their side, slipping away with a satisfied smirk.

"Damien!" Antonio tried to shout, but his voice came out as a weak rasp. He struggled to his feet, fighting against the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Where was Damien? The last he'd seen, his lover had been right beside him. But now, as the dust began to settle and the ringing in his ears faded, there was no sign of him.

Panic clawed at Antonio's throat as he stumbled through the wreckage, calling Damien's name with increasing desperation. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when they were so close.

As he rounded a corner, his heart stopped. There, half-buried under a fallen beam, lay a motionless figure.

"No," Antonio whispered, fear unlike anything he'd ever known gripping his heart. "No, no, no. Damien!"

He fell to his knees beside the still form, hands shaking as he reached out. "Damien, please. Wake up. You can't leave me, you stubborn bastard. Not now."

For a heart-stopping moment, there was no response. Then, so faintly Antonio thought he might have imagined it, a groan.

"That's it," Antonio urged, voice cracking. "Come on, Daddy. Open those eyes for me."

Damien's lashes fluttered, a pained grimace twisting his features. "Antonio?" he rasped, reaching out blindly.

Antonio caught his hand, pressing desperate kisses to his bloodied knuckles. "I'm here," he choked out. "I'm right here, baby. Just hold on, okay? Help is coming."

Damien's grip tightened, his eyes finally focusing on Antonio's face. "The traitor," he managed, voice rough with pain and urgency. "Did you see...?"

Antonio nodded grimly. "Yeah. I saw. But don't worry about that now, we need to?—"

"No," Damien cut him off, struggling to sit up despite Antonio's protests. "We need to move. Now. If they're working with the coalition..."

The implications hit Antonio like a punch to the gut. Everything they'd worked for, all the progress they'd made in uniting the families... it could all come crashing down if they didn't act fast.

As if on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the debris-strewn hallway. Friend or foe, there was no way to know.

Antonio met Damien's gaze, saw his own determination and fear reflected back at him. Whatever came next, they'd face it together.

But as the footsteps drew closer and Damien struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Antonio for support, one thing was clear:

The war was far from over. And the greatest threat might come from within their own ranks.