I consider it. Run through the logistics in my head. The risks. The variables. "It might work. If we control the lighting carefully. The camera angle. Keep the call short. Don't give him time to notice anything off."
"Good," Erion says. "That leaves the Irish." His tone darkens. Hardens. "They've been hitting our warehouses. Both yours and mine. Multiple strikes over the past two weeks. Small, surgical. Testing our defenses. Measuring our response times. Seeing how we react."
"We need to send a message," I say. "A loud and clear one."
"Agreed," Luan says.
"Then we're set," Erion says. Pushes off the mantel. Straightens. "Luan handles Driton. You and I handle the Irish. We hit them hard. Make an example. Something they won't forget. Something that makes it very clear that touching our operations comes with consequences."
We all nod. The plan is set. Simple. Direct. Dangerous.
Erion stretches. Rolls his shoulders like he's loosening up for a fight. "I think I'll go see if I can find something sweet after all."
The implication is crystal clear. He's not talking about dessert.
"Back off," it comes out almost like a growl. The warning is unmistakable. "Lily is off limits."
Erion looks at me. His eyes are sharp. Assessing. Calculating. "Does she belong to you, Berisha? Or to him?" He jerks his chin toward Luan.
The question hangs in the air. Demanding an answer I'm not prepared to give.
I want to say yes. Want to claim her. Want to tell him she's mine and he needs to keep his hands and his eyes and his flirtations to himself.
But I can't.
Erion watches me. Waits. Gives me every opportunity to speak.
Then he nods slowly. Understanding. "Mendoje, vëlla.Think about it, brother. But don't think too long." He heads toward the door. Pauses with his hand on the knob. Looks back over his shoulder. "Because I know exactly what I want. And I'm not afraid to take it."
He walks out. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
I stand there. Silent. Motionless. Coffee cooling in my hand.
Knowing I just lost ground I didn't even realize I was defending.
Knowing that Erion Kodra just declared his intentions.
And knowing I have no claim strong enough to stop him.
8
LUAN
The doctor's words loop through my head like a recording I can't shut off.
You're progressing well, Mr. Krasniqi. Faster than we initially expected. But full recovery will still take time. Several more weeks. Patience is essential.
Weeks.
My own body has betrayed me. Locked me inside darkness while the world moves on without me. While threats pile up and rivals circle and I sit here useless, waiting for cells to regenerate and nerves to repair and vision to return.
All I can see are shadows. Blurred shapes moving through gradations of light and dark. No definition. No detail. No faces. I can't read expressions or body language or the thousand smallvisual cues that tell you when someone's lying or planning something or about to make a move.
I'm blind. Not completely. But enough that I'm functionally helpless.
I need to move. Need to do something. Anything to burn off the restless energy crawling under my skin.
I start pacing. The living room is familiar territory. I've walked this space thousands of times. I know every measurement. Every piece of furniture. Every corner.
