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“Bring out the crane,” I yelled across the chaotic warehouse floor, motioning at the distribution manager to bring down the crates from the top. “The shipment is due to be collected within the hour.”

Rurik nodded and turned to a trio of rowdy young men, instructing two to climb the ladders and the third to operate the forklift.

One by one, I watched the crates being guided out, each weighing more than a thousand kilos. The warehouse, filled with dozens of men, was a collection of roaring noises and suited the occasion.

This was our first joint venture with the Ustinovs, and by extension, the Vadims. Both Bratva families wanted us—the Lebedevs—to be in charge as a show of faith since Kate Ustinov married my brother. With Caspian and Kate off enjoying the white sands of Mexico for their honeymoon, that left me to play goddamn referee.

After years of enmity, the Lebedevs and Ustinovs were finally allies and I wanted to make sure everything went off perfectly. From New York, I was to see off our latest shipment of arms, bound for Russia. From there, the Ustinovs’ and Vadims’ network was to collect and distribute these weapons to the highest bidders across Europe.

The money to be made was in the tens of millions, and I had been at the warehouse all day, making sure nothing went wrong.

Just then, I heard an explosion so loud that I barely registered the flash of light. The force of the blast sent me flying, crashing into crates and debris. All around me, I heard screams.

I fell to the ground in panic, covering my eyes and head, trying to take deep breaths to ease the pain that roared in my ears. I oriented myself and when I looked up to see what was happening, the left quadrant of the warehouse was in flames.

I pushed myself off the ground, despite the ringing in my ears, and scanned the area. Some of our men were scrambling in fear, rushing toward the exit.

Fuck. We’d been bombed.

Through the haze, I spotted Rurik, blood trickling down his forehead as he helped a couple of injured men to safety. I rushed to his side, sliding an arm under the other side of the injured man Rurik was trying to take out of the warehouse.

Rurik looked over at me, his face ashen-white. “Boss,” he said. “Who could have done this?”

“Let’s make sure everyone’s safe first, then we’ll figure out the rest,” I said, through gritted teeth. All around me, I saw destruction. Our pristine warehouse was now a graveyard of fallen beams, broken crates and ashen walls. The extent of the damage made me feel so damn angry, I could have punched a hole through a wall.

This wasn’t just an attack on our business; it was personal. Whoever planted this bomb could have killed any of us. I shuddered at the thought. What if Caspian had been here? What if he’d been standing next to the bomb? A few more feet, and I might not have walked out of here.

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than revenge.

Once outside, I gathered the managers. “Do a head count,” I instructed, watching as a few men ran to douse out the flames before they spread.

Ten minutes later, Rurik returned. “Boss,” he said with a look of relief. “No casualties. Nine injured. Two are being taken to the hospital as we speak.”

I clamped Rurik on his back. “You’ve brought good news,” I said, finally allowing myself a small smile. But, that didn’t mean all was forgotten. There might have been no casualties, but they did injure my men, they did ruin our plans.

The message behind the attack was crystal clear. Someone wanted to rattle us and probably wished to crack this fragile new alliance we’ve formed with the Bratva families.

“Make sure the fire is out,” I told Rurik. “Ensure everyone gets back safely, and call for back-up. Divert a shipment to a safe house for today, and inform the receivers to expect a delay of a few days. Call logistics to create a new shipping route in case our current one has been compromised. Don’t leave the goods unguarded tonight. Call for back-up and then go home. After that, get some rest, Rurik.”

“Understood, Boss,” Rurik nodded, not prying any further. I needed to get out of here and find some goddamn answers.

Who the hell was responsible for this attack?

I walked through the wreckage, feeling angrier with each injured man still working to keep us strong. Upon reaching the car, I spotted a dart stuck to the door handle. It had a piece of paper attached with a message scrawled in bold black letters: “ traitors.”

I froze in place as I read the word again. At the back of my mind, I knew then just who was responsible for this attack. The Italians. It had to be one of them.

With our new alliance in place, Caspian had warned me that the Italians weren’t happy with our family. There were rumors amongst the families, he had said in passing once, that we’d betrayed our Italian heritage by shaking hands with the Russians.

Those wretched, emotional bastards, I thought to myself in anger. It was just like them to forget that while the Lebedevs were half Italian, we were also half Russian.

But of course, where matters of power were concerned, some of the clans chose to go down an unprecedented route. They used this alliance as an excuse to finally do what they always wished—usurp us from our apex position. I could only imagine the smaller families holding meetings to unite against us, planning and plotting to use this opportunity to get ahead.

They were so short-sighted in their quest to prove themselves stronger than we were, that they forgot the one rule we had amongst each other—we may compete, but never tear another down.

They saw an opportunity to tear us down and took it by breaking the silent agreement between Italian Mafia families not to interfere with each other’s businesses.

Now that they’d broken the code, my anger beckoned at me to find the culprit and show them a vengeance they’d remember for generations to come.

I crumpled the note in my hand and shoved it far away, getting into my car and slamming the door shut behind me. Immediately, I called the men in charge of my spying network. Though they weren’t a part of our regular payroll, they did their odd jobs in keeping our family updated on the goings and comings of the other Mafia families. If anyone would know which family was responsible for today’s attack, it would be these guys.

***

I drove away from the warehouse, my eyes periodically scanning the side and rearview mirrors. My hands shook as I drove, the fear of what could have happened still resting like embers in my nervous system.

Men could have been killed. I could have been killed. Had I not been there, my brothers could have been killed. The bomb blast was such a grave threat, that I wasn’t stupid enough to believe there wouldn’t be more.

Behind me, in the distance, I saw the headlights of a car. At first, I ignored it, but as I passed one mile, then two, and finally three, and I took a turn yet the headlights remained, I tensed up.

Was I being followed? Who the hell would follow me?

I pulled out my gun and held it between my fingers while I drove, slowing down to allow the car to catch up, just so I could catch a glimpse, a clue. But on slowing, the car slowed too.

I slammed my foot on the accelerator, trying to lose him, but the car behind me did the same. I watched for the turn onto the high street to come into sight and allowed it to be just by my side as I took the unexpected turn, my car swerving in the process. The car following me overshot the turn, giving me space to breathe.

I parked my car in an alleyway to avoid being detected on the main streets and walked a distance to our meeting spot. Twenty minutes later, I was heading down a crowded high street, with early night shoppers and diners providing exactly the kind of cover I needed. I slipped into an alleyway between a high-end boutique and a coffee shop, the passage so narrow that my shoulders nearly brushed both walls.

At the end of the alley stood two men, both leaning against a brick wall. Though they were twins, and most people couldn’t tell them apart, from the years we’d worked together, I had no trouble identifying Marco from Paulo. They’d been our eyes and ears, loyal to our family, as long as they were paid above market rates.

And we made sure to do that.

“We’ve been waiting here a while,” Marco said, kicking off the wall and approaching me.

“I had a warehouse to sweep up,” I frowned. “Someone planted explosives.”

The twins exchanged surprised glances. “When?”

“Just before I called you to meet me. You didn’t hear of any attacks planned against us, did you?” I asked, my voice lowering with a caution, and a warning on how they wished to approach this.

“No,” Paulo said adamantly, without skipping a beat.

“We'd have told you if we had,” said Marco.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, knowing that they spoke the truth.

That was an interesting turn of events, though.

The twins knew everything that happened within the Italian families—every grudge, every plan, every alliance. If they hadn't heard about the bombing, it meant either the perpetrators were exceptionally secretive.

“Who do you think it was?” asked Paulo.

“The Italians,” I said.

“How do you know?” frowned Marco.

“They left a message. Called us traitors.”

Marco's eyes narrowed. “The old families have been talking. They don't like the Russian alliance. They say the Lebedevs have forgotten where you came from.”

“We remember exactly where we came from,” I said, my voice hardening. “And where we're going. Who's been the loudest?”

The twins exchanged another look. “The Ajellos,” Paulo said finally. “Gastone has been hosting dinners, inviting the smaller families. There’s been big talk about traditions and unity.”

I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth. Of course the Ajellos had to go around barking against us. They’ve had it out for our family for years, ever since they claimed our great-grandfather wronged theirs three generations ago.

To date, they carried an ancient grudge for an event none of us knew the details of.

“We'll look into the bombing,” Marco said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Is there anything else?”

I shook my head. “Let me know if Gastone schedules any more dinners, and I expect a full report on the guest list.”

***

After parting ways, I slipped back onto the main street. The crowds were still thick, many people getting ice cream with their kids, some walking into theatres, others sitting around and watching the buskers hard at work.

I reached the walkway opposite the alley where I had been passed and waited for the pedestrian light to turn green. When it changed, I was about to cross over when I caught sight of a large man at the entrance of the alley where my car was parked, his head darting around as if he were surveying something.

I paused, watching his movements, and ducked behind a group of people to go unnoticed. Just then, a woman in a navy-blue dress, with thick blonde hair cascading down her neck, turned on her heels and gestured to him. He quickly followed as she turned and walked away.

I kept my eyes on his face, feeling on edge after the day I’d had. Then, I caught sight of his side profile.

My heart roared in my chest, wanting to rip open another. His.

I recognized him immediately: Dom, the Ajello family's favorite muscle. He was utterly loyal to the family.

From how he walked a respectful distance behind the woman, never beside her in stride, I knew exactly what he was doing here. He was acting as her bodyguard, which made her an imminent member of the Ajello family.

An Ajello woman? Could be their sister, a cousin, perhaps even a girlfriend. Whoever she was, she was important enough to warrant Dom's protection while she was out here doing god knows what.

There was only one reason why she and that brute Dom were at the same place as I was. Only one reason why they were near where my car was parked.

I remembered what the twins said. The Ajellos had been hosting dinners without any of our family representatives, talking of tradition and loyalty.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence to see an Ajello here, right after we were bombed. They must have followed me out, were probably the ones in the car tailing me on the way over.

The Ajellos had been, without a doubt, responsible for the attack on our warehouse.

I had found my perpetrators.

I made my decision in an instant. If the Ajellos wanted to play games, I would oblige them. But I would be the one to dictate the rules.

Without hesitation, I crossed the street, maintaining a careful distance behind Dom, who in turn followed the blonde woman.

I had no idea of what my grand plan was, but knew one thing for certain. I wanted to see how I could use her to send a message back to Gastone Ajello.

The blonde entered a café at the corner of the street. I couldn’t hear her, but I saw her turn in my direction. I ducked behind a cart and watched her point at a store in the distance behind me. He nodded as she handed him a slip of paper, leaving her to enter the café alone.