"What do you want?" I asked.
"In addition to the territory? Let's see..." Viktor pretended to think. "Your wife. Paola. I'd like her delivered to me by the end of the week."
"Never going to happen."
"Then Piero stays. Permanently."
Viktor's phone buzzed. He answered, listened. His expression changed—fury replacing satisfaction like a storm cloud covering the sun.
"The documents are fake." His voice was deadly quiet. "The accounts don't exist. The transfers are fraudulent."
I didn't flinch. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You tried to trick me." Viktor's gun swung from Piero to me. "Big mistake."
This was it. The moment where everything went to hell.
My hand moved toward my watch—the signal.
But before I could remove it, Viktor's men were on me. They slammed me to the ground, weapons trained on my head, my chest, my spine.
Viktor stood over me. "Did you really think I wouldn't verify? Did you think I was that stupid?"
"Worth a shot." I tasted blood from my split lip.
"Your brother dies first. Then you. Slowly. I want you to watch him bleed out before I put a bullet in your skull."
Viktor's finger tightened on the trigger.
Gunfire erupted—not from Viktor's gun, but from the warehouses.
Giulio's snipers, taking out Viktor's men with surgical precision.
Chaos exploded. Viktor's men returned fire. I rolled, tackled the guard nearest me, drove my elbow into his throat.
I couldn't get the signal out, but my team came anyway. Thirty seconds had passed, and they'd moved despite the risk.
Boats roared up to the pier—my extraction team. Giulio and operators stormed the dock, weapons up, engaging Viktor's men in a symphony of controlled violence.
I caught a glimpse of Rosa Vasquez among the tactical team—Piero's assistant, wearing FBI tactical gear, weapon drawn. What the hell was she doing here? But there was no time to process it. She moved with the other agents, professional, trained.
Later. I'd deal with that later.
I fought my way to Piero, pulled a knife from a fallen guard's belt, cut my brother's bonds.
"Can you walk?"
"Can I not die here? That's the real question."
I hauled him up, supported his weight. We moved toward the extraction boats through the firefight.
Bullets flew. Someone went down—one of Viktor's men, then another. Giulio provided covering fire, his team moving like a well-oiled machine.
"Move! Now!"
We were almost to the boats when Viktor appeared, blocking our path, bleeding from his shoulder but still armed. Still dangerous.
"You don't get to win," he snarled. "Not this time."
