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“She’s been in contact with the Russians. Petrov’s people. Word is she’s trying to buy heavy artillery from them. The kind of weapons that could punch through the compound’s defenses.”

Now that’s interesting. Aria’s thinking bigger than I gave her credit for. The Russians control the most sophisticated weapons market on the East Coast. If she’s approaching them, she’s not planning a raid—she’s planning a siege.

“Have they sold to her yet?” I ask.

“No. Petrov called me personally to report the contact. The Russians remain loyal to the Bianchis. They’ve turned down her initial offers.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Nicolo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Boss, if she gets her hands on Russian artillery?—”

“Call Petrov,” I say, standing from the table. “Tell him to reconsider.”

Silence falls over the dining room. I can hear Nicolo’s breathing, can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he processes what I just said.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “Did you just tell me to help your wife acquire weapons capable of destroying our home?”

“I told you to call Petrov.”

“Why?” The word explodes out of him. “Why would you do that? Why would you arm our enemy?”

I walk to the window, looking out at the city sprawling below. Somewhere out there, Aria is planning my destruction.

The thought should terrify me.

Instead, it sends electricity down my spine.

Because it means she’s got her eyes on me. She’s thinking about me.

“Because she’s not our enemy,” I say without turning around. “She’s my wife. And if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“I’ve found my purpose.” I turn back to face him. “For twenty-five years, the Bianchis have crushed anyone who dared to challenge us before they could become a real threat. But Aria?” I smile. “Aria deserves better than that.”

“She deserves to be crushed like any other threat.”

“She deserves to face me at full strength. Because when I beat her—when I prove that even at her best, she can’t defeat me—she’ll finally understand.”

For half a second, I see her winning. The thought turns my blood to ice—then fire.

“Understand what?”

“That she belongs with me. That she’ll never be stronger than when we are together.”

Nicolo drops his head into his hands. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

“I’m going to take back what’s mine. And she’s going to thank me for it.”

35

ARIA

The smell hits me first. Gun oil and metal shavings. Sweat and grime.

I stand at the entrance of the warehouse, watching fifty men transform my vision into reality.

They move with military precision—cleaning weapons, loading ammunition, studying blueprints spread across makeshift tables.