After All

The Marino-Fontierra-Ojeda Alliance

The Marino siblings gathered around the large oak table in the mansion's inner meeting room, a space rarely used unless something had gone catastrophically wrong.

The room was dimly lit, deliberately so. Heavy curtains muted the moonlight outside, leaving the glow of a single chandelier to cast long, uneven shadows across the walls. The oak table itself was massive, its surface polished smooth by decades of hands resting on it—hands that had signed deals, planned wars, sealed betrayals, and mourned losses. Tonight, it felt heavier than ever.

No one spoke at first.

The news of Arjan's injury hung over them like a suffocating fog. Severe. Critical. Stable—for now. Words that meant everything and nothing at the same time.

Arjan had never been just an ally. He had been their shield, their instructor, their silent constant. The man who stood behind Karl Marino like an immovable shadow. The one who corrected them when they were reckless, who stepped in when consequences turned lethal. Seeing him fall—wounded, bleeding, vulnerable—had shaken something deep and foundational.

Nozomi stood at the head of the table, fingers resting flat against the wood. Normally, her posture radiated composure, authority sharpened by restraint. Tonight, her shoulders were tense, jaw tight, eyes slightly darker than usual. She had not sat down.

She drew in a slow breath, then let it out through her nose.

"How do we do this?" she asked at last.

Her voice was steady, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.

She lifted her gaze, meeting each sibling's eyes in turn. "We don't have enough soldiers to wipe them out. Not cleanly. Not without losing people we can't afford to lose."

Arianna, seated to Nozomi's right, leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. She clasped her hands together, thumbs rubbing slowly against one another—a habit she had whenever she was thinking several steps ahead.

"We need more connections," Arianna said after a moment. Her tone was thoughtful, measured. "What happened to Arjan proves one thing very clearly: our current reach isn't enough anymore."

She glanced around the table. "If we push forward like this, we'll be bleeding people faster than we can replace them. And morale will collapse right after."

Rina, seated at the far end, had barely touched the glass of water in front of her. Her fingers hovered near it, as if she might grip it for balance. She nodded slowly at Arianna's words.

"I keep thinking about how Dad would handle this," she murmured.

Her voice was soft, almost fragile, but it carried weight. At the mention of Karl Marino, the room fell noticeably quieter.

"He wouldn't rush," Rina continued. "He'd step back, look at the board, and find a way to make them overextend themselves." She swallowed. "He always did."

Jessica shifted in her chair, breaking the stillness. She tilted her head slightly, eyes moving toward Rafael.

"Well," she said cautiously, "couldn't Rafael just ask his mom to stop keeping Dad as a hostage? Let him help us?"

The words landed wrong.

Nozomi reacted instantly. Her hand lifted slightly, palm outward—a subtle but firm stop.

"We can't," she said flatly.

Jessica stiffened, opening her mouth as if to protest, but Nozomi continued, her voice colder now.

"He's being punished," Nozomi said. "And our mother has made it very clear: she won't allow another drop of blood to spill because of him. Not yet. Not until she decides he's paid enough."