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“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “But we play this smart, or we risk losing everything.”
CHAPTER 25
Massimo
The message came through just after dawn, delivered by one of my runners—a note, short and cryptic, bearing the Russo family’s insignia. They wanted a sit-down. After the chaos with Raffaele, I’d been expecting something like this.
I stared at the message for a moment, my instincts screaming at me to be careful. But if the Russos were willing to talk, I had to hear them out.
I folded the note, tucking it into my pocket, and glanced over at Sofia. She was standing by the window, her arms crossed, the morning light casting a halo around her dark hair, painting her in the perfect picture of ethereal beauty. Her expression was calm, but I knew better. She looked over her shoulder and met my eyes, her body tense.
“Looks like the Russos want to play,” I said, keeping my tone casual.
She turned to face me, one eyebrow raised. “Do you trust them?”
I shrugged. “I trust them to look out for themselves,” I replied. “And right now, they’ve got plenty of reasons to be scared. Raffaele’s making moves, and they don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”
She nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt in her eyes. “You think it’s a trap?”
“It’s always a trap,” I muttered. “But we can’t afford to ignore it. If the Russos are looking to continue our alliance, it could turn the tide in our favor. And if they’re working with Raffaele, I want to know sooner rather than later.”
She hesitated, then took a step closer. “Then we go,” she said firmly. “But we stay sharp.”
And in that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. She was proving herself in ways I hadn’t expected, showing me the makings of someone who could not only survive in my world but thrive. She was more than a just a beautiful woman by my side.
She was my life.
The meeting place was an old warehouse down by the docks, a relic from a time when this city still believed in industry. Now it was nothing but rusted metal and broken glass. I’d brought a small crew with me—Leo, Stefano, a few of my most trusted men—armed and ready for whatever might come.
Sofia sat beside me in the car, her posture relaxed, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings as we pulled up to the warehouse.
“Remember,” I said quietly, “we go in calm. No sudden moves. Let them think they’ve got the upper hand.”
She nodded, her expression set. “Got it.”
I nodded to Leo, and he pushed open the door, stepping out first. Stefano followed, his eyes sweeping over the area, his hand resting on the gun at his hip. I stepped out next, feeling the weight of my own weapon beneath my jacket.
The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and oil, a low fog rolling in from the harbor. I could hear the distant sound of gulls crying overhead, but otherwise, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sofia moved to my side, her shoulder brushing against mine, and I glanced at her. “Stay close,” I muttered.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice steady, but soft.
We made our way to the entrance of the warehouse, the large metal doors slightly ajar, just enough to slip through. Leo and Stefano took up positions on either side, guns drawn but hidden, ready for anything.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside with Sofia right behind me. The interior was dark, the only light coming from a few broken windows high above. I could see the outlines of crates and old machinery.
The Russos were there waiting for me.
“Massimo,” Antonio called out, his voice echoing through the empty space. “Glad you could make it.”
I forced a smile. “You know me,” I replied. “Always happy to talk business.”
The man nodded, but there was something off in his demeanor, something twitchy. I felt Sofia shift slightly beside me, and I knew she felt it too.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement—a shadow, too quick, too deliberate. I turned just in time to see a man stepping out from behind one of the crates, a rifle in his hands, aimed directly at me.