Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
The name settled heavily between us. I straightened slightly, adjusting my grip on the knife as I watched him. “Which one?”
“I don’t know,” he rushed out, panic taking over now. “I swear to you, I don’t know.”
I held his gaze, measuring the truth in it. He believed that, but it didn’t mean it was a good enough answer.
“I didn’t see. I only heard the orders—” A trail of blood-laced saliva trailed from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.
Rossi was involved, and it changed everything. Then I finished him, sliding the blade along his neck from ear to ear. He spasmed, his mouth gaping open, death sounds leaving his throat. He jerked in his restraints, but there was only one end for him. Blood never meant anything but an end result to me. It was just part of the process. Part of what and who I was.
When I opened the door, my men were waiting outside. They straightened immediately, waiting for orders.
“Dispose of him,” I said.
“Da.” They both said in unison.
I stepped past them without another glance, already moving forward. If the Rossi family was in on this hit, then they’d crossed so many fucking lines that there was no going back.
And whatever came next wasn’t going to be civilized.
It was going to be war.
Chapter Two
Alexei
The tension in the meeting room was enough to strangle a person. It wasn’t something you could see or touch, but it pressed in just the same, settling into the space among everyone seated at the table.
My father Mikhail Drakovich sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed in a way that meant absolutely nothing. There was no ease in him, not when business like this was at stake.
Viktor, my father’s brother, sat to his right, his expression tight, his focus already locked on me like he’d been waiting for confirmation of something he didn’t want to be right about. Father leaned back in his chair across from him, one arm draped over the side, but there was nothing casual about the way he watched me.
“Talk,” he said, addressing me.
“The hit wasn’t random,” I said, my voice steady as I held his gaze. “It was coordinated and precise, and it was aimed directly at us. At our supply.”
That shifted the room, not because it surprised them but because it confirmed what had been building beneath the surface.
“Be specific,” Viktor said, his tone sharper now.
“It came through our southern shipping line,” I continued. “The warehouse near East Coast docks. The one we use to move product through before it gets distributed inland.”
My father straightened slightly at that, the first real reaction from him. “That location isn’t public.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not.” Which meant exactly what we were all thinking.
“They had inside information,” Viktor muttered.
“Or they’ve been watching us longer than we realized,” I said.
Neither option worked in our favor.
“The shipment they targeted wasn’t minor,” I continued. “Weapons, cash flow tied to three different territories, and enough leverage to cripple distribution for weeks if it had been successful.”
“And it wasn’t,” my father said, his voice calm but pointed.
“No,” I said, “because we intercepted it before they could finish it.”
That part mattered. Because it showed us the intention. This hadn’t been a test. It had been an opening move.
“They weren’t trying to take a single hit,” my father said, his tone thoughtful now, his mind already working through the implications. “They were trying to disrupt the infrastructure.”
“Exactly,” I said. “They weren’t aiming for damage. They were aiming for control.”
Silence settled over the table at that, heavier than before, because there was no mistaking what that meant.
The Rossi family wasn’t just another name in the criminal world. They were one of the oldest and most deeply rooted Italian syndicates with control over key ports, strong political ties, and enough influence to shift entire operations without ever stepping into the light.
“They’ve been pushing into our ports for months,” Viktor said, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “Expanding routes, tightening control over shipments moving through their territory. We’ve seen it.”
“We’ve ignored it,” my father corrected, “because it wasn’t direct.”
“It’s direct now,” I said.
My father leaned back slightly, his gaze steady on me, taking it in without interruption. He didn’t speak right away which meant he was already thinking three steps ahead of where this was.
“Why?” he asked finally.
That was the only question that mattered.
“Because control of our ports shifts everything,” I said. “If they take that line from us, they don’t just weaken our position, they strengthen theirs. They control movement, distribution, and leverage across multiple territories. It puts them in position to dictate terms instead of negotiating them.”
“And they think we’ll let that happen?” Viktor said, his voice edged with disbelief.
“No,” I said evenly. “They think they can force us into a position where we don’t have a choice.”