"Good," I say before pausing, letting her ease settle in. "Because once those drills land in Caracas, Ivan needs you to authorize the return manifest."
She freezes. "Return? What do you mean?"
"It’s a two-way trip, Helena. We aren't bringing the drills back. We’re bringing the casings.”
"What is in the casings?"
"Inventory," I reply. "Missiles. Assault rifles. C-4 explosives. Military-grade weaponry. The hardware the High Council needs to secure the Eastern border."
"Against who?" she demands. "Who are you fighting?"
"The Morettis." I say the name, letting the hammer fall. "The Italians."
"The Morettis?" she whispers, horror twisting her features. "My father has their name in his ledgers. Moretti Finance. He took loans from them."
"He did more than take loans," I say. "He opened the door for them."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your father is the reason they are powerful enough to challenge us," I say, cutting the conversation short. I’m not ready to tell her the rest. Not yet.
I turn away, looking out the glass wall at the warehouse floor.
A savage satisfaction rises in my chest.
I’ve been planning this for years. While the High Council cowered and signed treaties, I was building my arsenal. I was securing the ships. Now, with Helena's signature, I’ll have the weapons.
There won’t be a skirmish with the Italians. I’m going to slaughter them, taking them all out at once. Every Moretti who breathed the air the day my parents died will be wiped off the face of the Earth. I’m done waiting.
I shift back to her.
"We are going to war, and I intend to win."
Her face falls, hope vanishing into horror.
"No," she says. "No. I won't do it."
"You will."
"I won't run guns!" she shouts, stepping back. "I won't be an arms dealer. I won't help you smuggle explosives into the country. You have money, you have power. Why risk everything for this?"
I stare at her. She doesn't understand. She thinks this is about profit.
"My father was the Pakhan," I say. "He sat on the High Council. He ruled the Russian underworld until he was murdered. That seat, that throne... It’s my birthright."
I move closer to her.
"The Council is weak. They are losing ground. They need these weapons to secure their territory. The man who delivers this shipment, the man who solves their problem, he becomes the King."
I point to the file.
"This isn't a shipment of guns, Helena. This is my crown. And you’re going to help me take it."
"I won't!" she snaps. "I agreed to the drills because I thought it was real business! I thought you were finally letting me do something clean! I won't smuggle missiles for your war. I won't help you become the King of the Bratva."
"You don't have a choice."
"I do!" she shouts. "I’m not signing that return manifest. I’m done."
