Page 24 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

ANGELO

New York was different when you were at war. It wasn’t the usual pulse of grease and exhaust and Wall Street sweat—this was something darker. Like gunpowder soaked into concrete. Like the stink of fear bleeding from rats who thought they could nip at my empire and scurry away without losing teeth.

I stood in the shadows of Fortune after checking in with our manager, Oscar, who filled me in on what I had missed while I’d been away chasing Renzetti all over the map.

Thankfully, he was more than capable of running the place without me.

He managed the soft launch and opening night without a hitch.

It was meant to be exclusive anyway— more of a gentleman’s club, and I was proud of it .

Now, the VIP level had been cleared—no bottle girls, no hangers-on, just the men I trusted with my kingdom.

We had a lot to review this morning, and it seemed essential to formulate a game plan.

The idea that Renzetti and my mother were collaborating felt like a worm in my brain, gnawing at me from the inside out.

There must be some fundamental reason she had resurfaced and gotten involved with this guy. I just needed to figure out why.

Maxim leaned against the bar, his black suit immaculate and his eyes as cold as the Siberian tundra.

Ilias paced like a caged wolf, filled with restless energy and volcanic fury.

Conall sat at the far end of the table with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, his knuckles white around the glass.

Scattered around the booths were the rest of our men.

Although he was engaged in a card game with Lev and Remo, Bacco insisted on joining us.

It had become a trend for the Commission to come together, with our men forming friendships.

I appreciated this new facet because it fostered trust, leading to better coordination in our businesses .

Me? I was trying not to break my phone in half.

Theo had texted me earlier. One word:

Theo: bored

Bored. After everything. After almost bleeding out in my arms. After being in the hospital for a week. Being kidnapped. After being almost trafficked.

Me: Text Frankie

Theo: Already did. Bring me something fun.

I didn’t know what that meant. Fun?

Me: Fun … like?

Theo: Surprise me.

I could picture her now, curled up on the couch in one of those kimonos that hung off her shoulder, surrounded by half-finished sketches and bolts of silk I had brought in.

Her curls piled up in that effortless way that drove me insane: surly, stubborn, untouchable.

When I told her I needed to go out this morning, she narrowed her eyes at me but didn’t complain.

She mentioned that she might redecorate the garage, which sent shivers down my spine.

Theo had always been hell on my cars. It had been a little game we’d played. I loved them, and she tortured them.

Her sneaking into my garage had been my penance for her catching me all those years ago.

We had never spoken about it, but I knew that’s what it was.

It hadn’t even been so much about the woman …

it was about the words after. I deserved everything she did —each tire she slashed, each car she keyed.

She’d become less violent over the years, only letting the air out of the tires instead of slashing them.

Her small rebellions had slowed down to just once yearly, and I’d almost been sad.

I had left her at the brownstone in the Bronx that morning with two of my best men stationed outside the door. Norris was also there; he was combat-trained and could cook. He had been with me for ages, long enough to fully understand my tragic history with Theo.

I might also have had another squad of men parked in a brownstone I owned across the street, keeping watch just in case. Additionally, another team monitored the security feed from a block away. This time, there would be no kidnapping.

Renzetti had slipped through my fingers like oil.

Humiliated in Louisiana, his sick little auction burned to the ground, and now he was striking back.

Two warehouses were torched in Brooklyn.

One of our cash fronts in Hell’s Kitchen was turned upside down.

Earlier this morning, one of my men had been shot on the stoop of his own home.

Renzetti wasn’t going to lie down and take it.

“I want blood,” I growled, the words bouncing off the dark-paneled walls. “We need to get this fucker.”

“Join the club,” Ilias muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. “If I don’t put a bullet between that little toad’s eyes myself, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Ignoring the fact that Ilias wanted to take my kill, I focused on what we knew.

“We think he’s using old contacts from the Gulf Cartel,” I told them, pulling up the digital map on the screen we’d installed behind the bar.

I pointed to a cluster of ports in Belize and Honduras.

“Maxim has a guy down there we’re waiting to hear from, but he’s making plays here as well. ”

“ Da , he’s getting closer to the answers we need, but this is tricky business with the cartels.” As always, Maxim sounded bored.

“We need to make a move soon,” Kostas had appeared in the doorway like a shadow. “The longer we wait, the more this makes us look like fools.”

“I’m not waiting,” I said. “I’m hunting. Every day. Every hour. We don’t stop until he’s in the ground. I’ve been taking out any of his men that I find.” We’d caught one down near Oliveto territory and torn him apart, leaving his body steaming there for the vultures.

“And Theo?” Vaso asked. He was seated beside Ilias, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s good,” I said, my voice firm. “Protected. She slept well.” I offered the last piece reluctantly. She had indeed slept well. I’d checked on her every half hour and eventually caved, remaining in the chair by her bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

It took everything in me the night before not to touch her.

She had been Venus de Milo come to life, stripped bare.

I would have taken her right there if she hadn’t been injured and wary.

Theo didn’t trust me, not like I wanted her to.

She said she hated me last night, and I couldn’t blame her for that.

She’d been so beautiful with those tiny dusky nipples of hers and all that bronze skin that glowed in the light of the bath.

Just getting to touch her at all had been a gift.

She’d had no idea that I’d knelt behind her and struggled to breathe through the hard-on I’d had the whole time, trying to center myself and be mindful that she was injured.

I turned my back on them for a moment to breathe. What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t say—was that every day I left her behind felt like leaving a knife in my chest.

Theo had changed everything. Or maybe she had just shown me what I hadn’t wanted to see.

That I wasn’t a man immune to attachment, that I couldn’t keep pretending she was merely a strategic match, a duty fulfilled.

She had bled in my arms, and she’d curled into a space in my heart that somehow I didn’t realize was empty.

And then I’d locked her in my house like a fucking prisoner.

Because I had to, Renzetti would come for her again.

That bastard didn’t like losing; that much was obvious.

This was personal. The way he’d gone about it—who he’d picked—was specific.

If it wasn’t about me, it was about Theo.

Then there was the Carlotta factor. My mother was helping him—or, at the very least, she had opened the door.

“So … Carlotta…” Ilias said slowly, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Any leads? I’m worried for Polina, too. You said that she was mentioned? It isn’t good for her to be on anyone’s radar.” He frowned.

The other Anthakos sister, who was kept away from criminal enterprises, should be checked on.

I clenched my jaw. “Theo said Carlotta knew of her, so I would ensure she is secure.” Ilias nodded, but his scowl deepened.

“I’ve torn through every known safe house she ever used.

Every contact. Every whisper of where she might’ve gone.

It’s like she disappeared off the goddamn map. ”

“Or someone’s protecting her,” Maxim said coolly, swirling the drink in his hand. “She was always good at manipulation. That woman is a master at that.”

“She handed my fiancée over to that psycho,” I said, voice a snarl. “There’s not a universe where she walks away from this. ”

“Upgraded to fiancée already?” Ilias was cool in his reply. “Did she finally accept the proposal? I better see a ring on that hand.”

“You’ll see one.” Theo still needed to agree, but I was focusing on my approach.

“I agree that there isn’t a world where Carlotta walks away. She’s in too deep,” Remo groused from his card game with Bacco. He had taken our mother’s involvement even harder than I had if that was possible.

Conall rolled his glass between his hands. “You think she knew what he planned?”

That was the big question I’d always had about my mother, and maybe an answer I hadn’t wanted to face for a long time: how far the rot went.

“I don’t know. But I don’t fucking care.

She knew enough to set Theo up,” I paused.

“I think she knew. There’s something else,” I added, flicking to another slide on the monitor.

“I found an old Santelli financial account—one only Carlotta had access to—was drained. A couple million.”

Ilias swore under his breath. “You think she was helping fund Renzetti.”

“Maybe,” I muttered. “Maybe she has always been involved in the sex trade. Trafficking.” I’d always wondered if she was more of the mastermind of my father’s trade routes — the impetus for pushing him into the alliance and the blood oath.

Maxim cocked his head at me in that way he did when he was contemplating something. “It’s possible for sure, but she’s never shown her hand before or since. Then we cut off everything else,” Maxim said. “Burn every contact. Isolate her and Renzetti. Starve them.”

I nodded. “I’ve already started. I’ve pulled back on every Santelli-funded deal, even remotely linked. The ripple will reach her. She’ll come out of hiding when the money runs dry. My men are roaming the streets here in New York, looking for any of Renzetti’s men and grabbing them on the spot.”

A smile stretched across Maxim’s face, wolfish and sharp. “I caught two of them last night. Lev and I enjoyed that.” He glanced at his vor, whose answering grin confirmed that Renzetti’s men had not reciprocated the feeling.

“We’ve been on the lookout but haven’t seen any,” Conall added. “Not that we haven’t been looking. O’Kelly turf has been quiet, except for a call from Nico.”

Ilias went still. Nico should have warned us, at the very least, about this mysterious cousin of Cosimo’s.“Oh? What did that fucker have to say? Did he have a good explanation for why this psychopath was coming out of the woodwork?”

“Not really. He was quick to mention he wasn’t involved in whatever Renzetti was up to, which is smart.

Nico said he had the men who were loyal looking for any intel they could find, but obviously, I don’t think we should bother too much with Nico.

I’m not saying we should write him off, but …

” Conall’s massive shoulders rolled as if he were trying to work out a kink.

He felt uncomfortable with the situation involving Cosimo Oliveto and, by extension, Nico Balestra, but he was trying to navigate it for Theo’s sake.

Silence settled like ash. At times, that dream floated forward — the one where I took my family and found a place where blood didn’t fall from the sky and the pavement wasn’t perpetually boiling beneath me.

In my head, it was quiet. It was her voice.

Theo. Laughing. Swearing. Telling me I was being dramatic.

That I looked like a mob boss straight out of a movie.

That I was capable of figuring it all out.

She was right, of course. But the difference between me and the caricatures was simple—I didn’t bluff.

My phone buzzed again—another message from Theo.

Theo: You better be bringing home pizza. Or I’m setting fire to your ties.

I smirked despite myself.

“My sister still causing trouble?” Ilias asked, watching the way my mouth twitched.

“She’s—” I paused, then exhaled. “She’s driving me insane.”

Conall laughed knowingly. “You’re a goner.”

“She sees me.” My voice was quieter now. “But I have a lot of work to do to get her to trust me.”

I hated leaving her behind. I hated the way her eyes followed me to the door that morning. She hadn’t said, ‘Don’t go,’ but she hadn’t needed to. It was in how her breath caught as I helped her dress and checked her bandages. Her eyes were wary, even as I wanted to press my advantage.

And maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her. Or I should have kissed her more.

Maybe I shouldn’t have tucked the sheets around her, knowing damn well that the only place I wanted her was under me, in my bed, screaming my name.

But she’d been pale. Still healing. And when she’d curled into the pillow and whispered my name in her sleep, I’d felt something splinter in my chest. I didn’t want to deny what was in front of me anymore. There was that tug and pull to her that was undeniable.

I wanted to keep her.

Protect her.

“She doesn’t deserve this,” I murmured. It was a difficult realization that the lives we crafted weren’t conducive to safety, no matter how hard we tried.

It felt like grasping at a pile of pick-up sticks.

I didn’t think the others knew how uneasy it all made me, how uneasy it had always made me. How conflicted I felt.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ilias affirmed. “But we take care of our families.”

“Even when they despise us for it,” Conall said, raising his glass .

“Amen to that,” Maxim remarked with a faint smile.

We all appeared to bear that burden, particularly lately, with the shadows looming over our empire.

The meeting extended well into the afternoon. Plans were crafted. Insights were exchanged. Names were mentioned.

And all the while, my mind drifted back to the brownstone in the Bronx. To a woman who stitched silk like magic and threw knives with her words. To the way, she’d looked at me in that bath, soft and suspicious, aching and proud.

Theo Anthakos was going to be my wife.

And God help anyone who stood in the way of that.

Especially Renzetti.

Especially my mother.