Page 82 of Bleed with Me

“I won’t push,” I started, a weird emptiness settling in my chest. “But we have some time before Malin prepares the game.”

“It’s everything, Dorian,” he sighed heavily, lifting his mask. He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “Seven months have gone by, and the Italians are still divided. They are moments from war because of their leadership.”

“What?” My brows dipped as I watched him nod slowly.

“We destroyed our enemies, but at the same time,” he looked into the forest where the angry dog barking echoed through the quiet space, “we created chaos. Every clan wants a seat at the table. We are stronger than ever, and with the New York Bratva at our side, we can pick the players, but it’s like choosing the best from the worst.”

“Well, Stefano Gravaldis is legit,” I said, quickly recalling the info I had on the other families. But it was tricky. I hadn’t been updated in almost seven months.

“Yeah, and that’s pretty much it.” Zyon glanced over my shoulder at the car that had just stopped before the gate. It was his Maserati. “Grany Santangelo believes that a marriage into our family will grant her a seat at the table. And two days ago, I was approached by Sonny Carlile, who had the audacity to tell me that by marrying the Valentino heir and helping me with Ramzan, I owe him.”

“Are you serious?” I laughed, but seeing Zyon’s murderous expression, I instantly knew he wasn’t.

“I almost stabbed him with the fucking plastic knife Zara forgot in my suit jacket,” he rumbled, pure fury crossing his features. “I need Ramzan for a much bigger plan than this shit, but I’ll leave him in jail just to smile into naive Italian faces.”

“He’ll be pleased,” I mumbled, suppressing a grin. Our youngest brother would go after Zyon’s jugular if he knew his imprisonment was part of a power game.

“We need Ramzan out,” Zyon repeated with surprising urgency. “But marrying Diana Santagelo won’t grant her family a share of our cake. And also, some power-hungry boy won’t be telling me shit. Lorenzo Valentino barely stands when he sees me, and now this shit…” He clenched his hand into a tight fist, flashing me his signature murderous glare. “I need to make sure Carlile won’t get close to the leadership of the Valentino family.”

“Nina Valentino is the only heir,” I reminded him, shrugging when he groaned. “You know Lorenzo can’t have more kids. That girl is a gold mine.”

“Malin found out Giovanni trained her to rule.” His hand flexed as he tried to lose some tension. He looked ready to explode. “We killed the man who prepared her for the throne. If she inherits the family and uses Carlile’s stupidity against us, she could start another war.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the word war hanging between us like a sword. The last time we were in open conflict, it ended in blood and grief. I didn’t want to go through it again.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, noticing Jamal get out of the car. He lit a cigarette and sat on the car hood, watching us as if he expected us to evaporate into thin air. The man was obsessed with Zyon’s safety.

“With Nina?” Zyon raised a brow. “I have no idea yet. I won’t kill a twenty-four-year-old woman because she might be a threat later. And Malin didn’t find anything about any form of abuse. Valeria is certain, but I don’t know. It’s all a mess.”

“And Ramzan?” The thought of our youngest brother rotting in a Russian prison for almost two years sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. Yes, he knew how to take care of himself, but still, it was a fucking Russian prison.

“He’s protected in jail,” Zyon reassured me as if he could read my thoughts. “But the marriage…” He trailed off, checking his buzzing phone. An unknown number lit up the screen, and he rolled his eyes in irritation before shoving the device into his pocket.

“We found some disturbing things regarding Granny Santangelo and Chester Kellerman,” he revealed, nodding for me to follow him to the car. My stomach tightened. I never thought I’d hear that name again. “Malin couldn’t sleep because he believed Chester outsmarted him.” Zyon grinned, took a cigarette from Jamal, and lit it. “So, he went through everything since Chester and Valentino joined forces until the day Chester shot you.”

I instinctively touched the tiny scar on my shoulder. It was just a scratch, but a nasty reminder it could have ended much worse.

“I don’t know the specifics,” Zyon said, blowing the heavy cloud of smoke into the air. “But our genius brother discovered that Granny hid Chester with the promise to smuggle him out of the country, and then sold him out.”

“What?” I stared at him, completely dumbstruck.

“You look like me when I heard it the first time.” He chuckled, leaning against the car. “Granny screwed us all to get what she wanted.”

“The promise of marriage,” I whispered, my mouth hanging open.

“Yip.” Zyon nodded, shrugging. “I can’t take it back. We agreed, but I sure as hell won’t give her any power. The old sack is dangerous.”

“Bloody hell,” I groaned, placing my hands on my hips. “This is a really impressive mess.”

“Told you.” He grimaced, throwing the half-smoked cigarette on the ground. “I need to go.”

“Of course.” I nodded, still trying to process the shock. He slammed my shoulder and opened the car door, but I stopped him from getting in. “By the way, is everything okay between you and Valeria?”

Zyon plastered on an emotionless mask.

“Why do you ask?” He scanned me as if I’d said something entirely wrong. It was a clear sign things weren’t good. I knew my gut was right the other day.

“Because I know you,” I replied matter-of-factly. “You’re not…” I paused, finding the right word. “You.”