Page 21 of Broken Vows (Empire City Syndicate #2)

Vincent

The war room in my penthouse has never seen this kind of coordination.

Maps spread across every surface, encrypted phones buzzing with constant updates, and for the first time in three generations, Russo and Mastroni soldiers working together.

The sight should be historic. Instead, it feels like a fucking necessity.

I stand over the central table, studying surveillance photos while Tony coordinates with Maya's team through secure channels.

The alliance is fragile—decades of bloodshed don't disappear overnight—but mutual survival makes strange bedfellows.

"Perezzi movements confirmed in three locations," Tony reports, hanging up his encrypted line. "They're mobilizing hard, but it's not random. Someone's coordinating their operations."

Maya leans against the wall, arms crossed, that predatory smile playing at her lips. "My sources say Perezzi's been flush with cash lately. New cars, upgraded weapons, recruiting heavily from the docks."

"Someone's bankrolling them," I conclude, though the implications make my stomach turn. "The question is who has that kind of money and motivation."

"Could be the Russians," Tony suggests. "They've been pushing into pharmaceutical distribution."

"Or the Chinese. They want our port access."

Maya shakes her head. "Neither of those bastards would use the Perezzis as proxies. Too unreliable. This feels personal."

Personal. The word sits like poison in my mouth because I know she's right. Someone close enough to know our operations, our security protocols, our fucking family dynamics. Someone who understands that targeting Melinda would create maximum chaos between our families.

My phone buzzes with a message from Davide, my private investigator: Financial records attached. You need to see this.

I open the encrypted files, scanning bank transfers and shell company documentation. The pattern becomes clear immediately—money flowing from a Russo account to various Perezzi operations over the past six months. Small amounts, careful transfers, but consistent.

"Son of a bitch." The words slip out before I can stop them.

"What is it?" Maya pushes off the wall, sensing blood in the water.

I study the account numbers, cross-referencing them with family financial records. The signature authorizations make my chest tight with fury and something that might be grief.

"It's Marco." I set the phone down carefully, fighting the urge to put my fist through the window. "My fucking brother has been financing operations against us."

For years, I covered for him.

When he lost control, I cleaned it up. When he crossed the line, I pulled him back.

I thought I was protecting the family.

Turns out, I was handing him the matches.

The room goes deadly quiet. Tony's hand moves instinctively toward his weapon, though there's no immediate threat. Maya's eyes narrow with the focused intensity of a predator scenting prey.

"How long?" Tony asks.

"Six months. Maybe longer." I scroll through more documentation, each transfer another knife in my back. "Small amounts, regular payments. Smart enough to stay under the financial monitoring thresholds."

"Why?" Maya's question cuts to the heart of it.

Because Marco's always resented me. Because he thinks I've gone soft, that legitimate business makes us weak. Because he'd rather burn the family to ash than see me inherit what he considers his birthright.

"Because he's a fucking psychopath who thinks tradition matters more than survival."

I dial my father's private line, letting it ring once before hanging up. A coded signal—we need to meet, urgent, hostile environment assumed. His return call comes immediately.

"Vincent."

"We need to talk. Your office. One hour."

"Is it?—"

"It's Marco."

Silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of family betrayal. When Antonio speaks again, his voice carries the coldness that made him feared across five boroughs.

"I'll be there."

I turn to Tony and Maya. "I want every piece of evidence compiled. Financial records, surveillance photos, communication intercepts. Everything."

I should check on Melinda.

But this comes first.

If I don’t put Marco down, no one’s safe—not even her.

"What about Marco?" Tony asks.

"I handle him personally."