Page 92
Story: Savage Devotion
"Tell me what the fuck is happening," I demand instantly.
Vladimir's heavy sigh carries through the line. "Well, as I understand it, your little brother has been stealing our shipments for months. Nico is playing both sides."
I process this information as fast as I can. "What shipments?"
"The heroin, Dante. The weapons leaving through Corsica. The workers moving through Belgrade." Vladimir's voice hardens. "Dmitri finally traced the losses back to Nico last week. He's been building his own operation. Using both Ravelli and Volkov routes without paying tribute to either."
The pieces begin to slot together, creating a picture I hadn't anticipated. Nico—the quiet brother, the peacemaker—building his own empire in secret.
I replay my meeting with him at the cigar lounge in Rome, examining every detail through this new lens. His carefully chosen words about the Volkovs' betrayal. The way he'd positioned himself as caught between Luca and me. Even the strategic reveal of those photos showing Dmitri at the mansion.
My brother had orchestrated the entire conversation. Fed me exactly what I needed to hear to keep my focus on the Volkovs and Luca, all while he built his own operation right under our noses.
But what does he actually want? Surely he can't want the same thing as me… Luca's throne?
Fuck.
Turns out, I've forgotten the most basic rule our father taught us: never trust a Ravelli.
"You think I knew about this?" I challenge.
"Dmitri isn't sure. But he wants Nico delivered for questioning." Vladimir's phrasing is deliberately euphemistic. We both know "questioning" means torture followed by execution. "The Castellano boy is leverage."
I search for the deeper game at play here. "And why take Antonio Castellano? Why not come directly to me?"
Vladimir's dry chuckle carries through the line. "Come now, Dante. We both know why. Your new queen's blood oath has made quite the splash in our circles. The Volkovs understand leverage better than most. And what better way to ensure your honest cooperation than through her?"
My jaw clenches as I glance at Francesca, who's leaning close to catch every word. The sight of her worried expression makes my blood boil.
"So you're using her brother to control me," I state flatly.
"Not me personally, but yes. The Volkovs know you'll act swiftly when it comes to your woman's happiness." Vladimir's tone turns knowing. "They've seen how... protective you are of what's yours. And now that she's bound to you by blood, her pain is your pain, no?"
I resist the urge to crush the phone in my grip. He's right. And that knowledge burns like acid in my veins.
The blood oath binds Francesca to me completely. Her brother's suffering will be her suffering. And despite everything my father taught me about emotional weakness, I can't bear the thought of her in pain.
"Tell Dmitri I want proof of life," I demand. "Current proof. Not some day-old video. I want to see Antonio breathing and conscious within the hour, or no deal."
"I'll relay the message." Vladimir pauses. "But remember, Dante—you have less than twelve hours before they start removing pieces of the boy. Dmitri won't wait."
I end the call without responding, turning to Francesca. Her eyes are hard with determination despite her obvious fear.
"We have to save him," she says immediately. "No matter what he's been involved in. No matter what deal you have to make with them. He's my brother, Dante."
"I know," I respond, reaching for her hand. "And we will."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "How? You heard Vladimir. They want Nico."
I meet her gaze directly. "Then we find Nico first."
By the time our helicopter lands at the London penthouse, I've initiated protocols across my organization. We enter the secure communications room, where Sophia already awaits with preliminary reports.
"The coordinates point to an abandoned factory outside St. Petersburg," Sophia reports, displaying satellite imagery on the main screen. "Heavy Volkov presence detected. At least twenty armed guards. Multiple approach vectors, all monitored."
"Antonio's condition?" I ask, watching Francesca from the corner of my eye.
"Still alive, according to our source inside the compound," Sophia confirms. "But they've continued the interrogation. Trying to extract more information about Nico's… well, whatever Nico is up to."
Vladimir's heavy sigh carries through the line. "Well, as I understand it, your little brother has been stealing our shipments for months. Nico is playing both sides."
I process this information as fast as I can. "What shipments?"
"The heroin, Dante. The weapons leaving through Corsica. The workers moving through Belgrade." Vladimir's voice hardens. "Dmitri finally traced the losses back to Nico last week. He's been building his own operation. Using both Ravelli and Volkov routes without paying tribute to either."
The pieces begin to slot together, creating a picture I hadn't anticipated. Nico—the quiet brother, the peacemaker—building his own empire in secret.
I replay my meeting with him at the cigar lounge in Rome, examining every detail through this new lens. His carefully chosen words about the Volkovs' betrayal. The way he'd positioned himself as caught between Luca and me. Even the strategic reveal of those photos showing Dmitri at the mansion.
My brother had orchestrated the entire conversation. Fed me exactly what I needed to hear to keep my focus on the Volkovs and Luca, all while he built his own operation right under our noses.
But what does he actually want? Surely he can't want the same thing as me… Luca's throne?
Fuck.
Turns out, I've forgotten the most basic rule our father taught us: never trust a Ravelli.
"You think I knew about this?" I challenge.
"Dmitri isn't sure. But he wants Nico delivered for questioning." Vladimir's phrasing is deliberately euphemistic. We both know "questioning" means torture followed by execution. "The Castellano boy is leverage."
I search for the deeper game at play here. "And why take Antonio Castellano? Why not come directly to me?"
Vladimir's dry chuckle carries through the line. "Come now, Dante. We both know why. Your new queen's blood oath has made quite the splash in our circles. The Volkovs understand leverage better than most. And what better way to ensure your honest cooperation than through her?"
My jaw clenches as I glance at Francesca, who's leaning close to catch every word. The sight of her worried expression makes my blood boil.
"So you're using her brother to control me," I state flatly.
"Not me personally, but yes. The Volkovs know you'll act swiftly when it comes to your woman's happiness." Vladimir's tone turns knowing. "They've seen how... protective you are of what's yours. And now that she's bound to you by blood, her pain is your pain, no?"
I resist the urge to crush the phone in my grip. He's right. And that knowledge burns like acid in my veins.
The blood oath binds Francesca to me completely. Her brother's suffering will be her suffering. And despite everything my father taught me about emotional weakness, I can't bear the thought of her in pain.
"Tell Dmitri I want proof of life," I demand. "Current proof. Not some day-old video. I want to see Antonio breathing and conscious within the hour, or no deal."
"I'll relay the message." Vladimir pauses. "But remember, Dante—you have less than twelve hours before they start removing pieces of the boy. Dmitri won't wait."
I end the call without responding, turning to Francesca. Her eyes are hard with determination despite her obvious fear.
"We have to save him," she says immediately. "No matter what he's been involved in. No matter what deal you have to make with them. He's my brother, Dante."
"I know," I respond, reaching for her hand. "And we will."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "How? You heard Vladimir. They want Nico."
I meet her gaze directly. "Then we find Nico first."
By the time our helicopter lands at the London penthouse, I've initiated protocols across my organization. We enter the secure communications room, where Sophia already awaits with preliminary reports.
"The coordinates point to an abandoned factory outside St. Petersburg," Sophia reports, displaying satellite imagery on the main screen. "Heavy Volkov presence detected. At least twenty armed guards. Multiple approach vectors, all monitored."
"Antonio's condition?" I ask, watching Francesca from the corner of my eye.
"Still alive, according to our source inside the compound," Sophia confirms. "But they've continued the interrogation. Trying to extract more information about Nico's… well, whatever Nico is up to."
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