“The time for restraint has passed.” His voice is flat and cold.
“The Bratva plays by rules we don’t recognize. They’ve made it clear they won’t stop until we’re destroyed or they are.” He pauses. Scans the room. “I choose option two.”
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the group.
“Miguel has sent reinforcements from Mexico. More soldiers. More weapons. We’ve been playing defense. That ends now.”
“About damn time,” someone mutters.
Dario catches my eye. His expression is hard, but I see the same thing I’m feeling reflected back at me. This means more bodies. Not just theirs. Ours too.
“I want every man we have on the streets,” Lorenzo continues. “All hands. No exceptions.”
“Then where the hell is Luca?” Moretti again. The guy doesn’t know when to stop pushing.
Lorenzo’s gaze cuts to him. “He’s been deployed.”
“Deployed where? You just said all hands, and the don’s own son is?—”
“That information stays with me and Dario.” Lorenzo’s voice doesn’t rise, but something in it makes Moretti take a step back. “He’s handling something critical. That’s all anyone needs to know.”
The room goes quiet. Even Moretti has enough survival instinct to drop it.
I don’t care where Luca is. My focus has been singular for days.
Viktor.
The bastard has gone to ground since he ran Julian down. Every contact I’ve squeezed, every favor I’ve called in, has turned up nothing. He’s a ghost.
My hands ache to wrap around his throat.
“What about the wedding?” Alessio’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “End of the week. We still using it to draw Viktor out?”
Every eye in the room turns to me.
Right. The wedding. My wedding.
Four days away.
My gut twists. Part anticipation. Part dread.
I want to marry Sierra. The realization settles into my bones, impossible to shake. I keep seeing her in my kitchen in the morning, coffee cup in hand, calling me a grumpy bastard with that smile that makes me forget I’m supposed to be one.
But I’ve been at my worst a lot lately.
The guilt over Santino presses down on me. Constant and heavy. It’s affecting everything. How I sleep. How I eat. How I am with her. I know she’s noticed me pulling back. Going quiet. Shutting doors I’d started to open.
I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t know how to tell her that I watched a good man die because I wasn’t fast enough. And now there’s this poison inside me that I can’t get out.
“Maybe we should postpone.” I clear my throat. “Out of respect. Give it some time.”
Paolo shakes his head. “The wedding is supposed to draw Viktor out. Why wait? Santino’s death left a hole in us, but maybe if we take Viktor, Kozlov gets a taste of how that feels.”
Several voices rise in agreement.
My jaw tightens. They’re talking about my wedding like it’s a military operation. Like Sierra is just a piece on the board.
She’s not. Not anymore.
