"Brother." His voice rasped like broken glass. "You shouldn't have come."
"I came for you."
Viktor laughed—sharp and cruel. "How touching. Brotherhood. Loyalty. So old-fashioned. So... exploitable." He extended his hand. "The documents?"
I set the briefcase on a nearby crate, opened it. The transfer agreements looked legitimate—Rocco had done excellent work. Bank account numbers, territory designations, shipping route contracts. All fake, but convincing enough to pass initial inspection.
Viktor pulled them out, began scanning. His expression shifted to satisfaction as he read.
"Fifty percent. Territory, shipping routes, legitimate businesses. All transferred to my shell companies." He looked up, something like respect in his eyes. "You're really doing this."
"I'm getting my brother back. That's all that matters."
"Sentiment. Your weakness, Cesare. I don't have such weaknesses."
"No," I agreed. "You just have enemies everywhere and allies nowhere. Must be lonely."
Viktor's smile tightened, became sharp-edged. "Clever mouth. Let's see if it stays clever."
He pulled out a phone, made a call. "Verify these documents. I want confirmation that the transfers are legitimate. Account numbers, routing information, everything."
This was it. The documents would hold up for maybe ten minutes under scrutiny. After that, Viktor's people would discover the accounts didn't exist, the transfers were fraudulent, the whole thing was an elaborate fake.
I had ten minutes to get Piero out.
While Viktor was on the phone, I moved closer to my brother.
"How bad?" I kept my voice low.
"Broken ribs. Maybe internal bleeding. Hard to tell." Piero tried to smile through split lips. "I've had worse."
"We're getting you out of here."
"How? He has a dozen men. You're unarmed. This is suicide."
"I have a plan."
"Your plans usually involve violence and luck. We're low on both right now."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. My brother, beaten and bound and facing execution, still making jokes.
Before we'd left for the pier, I'd pulled him aside in the penthouse. Told him about the baby. Made him promise to protect Paola if I didn't make it back. He'd gripped my shoulder, said, "We both make it back. You, me, Paola, and that kid. No one gets left behind."
Now here we were—both about to die if my plan didn't work.
Viktor returned, tucking his phone away. "My people are verifying. Should take five minutes. While we wait, let's discuss the terms of Piero's release."
"You get the documents, I get my brother. That was the deal."
"Ah, but deals can be... renegotiated." Viktor's smile was predatory. "For instance, I'm thinking Piero stays with me. Insurance. To make sure you honor these transfers."
"That wasn't the agreement."
"It is now. Unless you'd like to renegotiate?" He pulled a gun, aimed it casually at Piero's head. "I'm flexible."
The weapon gleamed in the morning sun. Piero didn't flinch—either too hurt or too proud to show fear.
I calculated angles, distances, odds. All bad.
