Page 89 of The Bonventi War

"He didn't know much," I say, pouring myself three fingers of whiskey from the crystal decanter. "But I got enough. Viktor Sokolov runs the show, hiding in the shadows. His right hand, Mikhail Petrov, handles security and operations. They're pissed about Frank Carvello's debt and still want Raven as payment."

"Where's Raven now?" Marco asks.

"At my place. Four men on the perimeter, two inside. She's safe." I lock eyes with Enzo. "For now."

"Okay, so does this mean Viktor is the one Raven was promised to?" Marco asks.

I nod. "I suppose so. He's the one who lost the money."

Enzo nods slowly, then addresses us both. "Knowing you were involved, Gio, they still burned her gallery. They tried to take her. This isn't just about Marco's shooting anymore. This is a direct challenge to our family."

"They're fucking dead," I growl. "All of them."

"We need to be smart about this," Marco interjects. "The Russians have connections. We start a war, there will be consequences."

I slam my fist on the table. "It's already started!"

Marco doesn't flinch. He's used to my temper. "I'm not saying we don't hit back. I'm saying we need a clean strike. Something that can't be traced to us."

Enzo shakes his head. "I don't know if that's possible anymore. Gio sure as shit ain't giving the girl up, so…"

Suddenly, the door opens, and Ares walks in without knocking. Only Ares could get away with that. Besides being a loyal friend since we were all kids, Enzo's security team wouldn't dare stop the son of the head of the Greek family.

"I hear you have a Russian problem," Ares says, crossing the room to shake each of our hands. His grip is firm.

"I called him to come," Gio says.

"Good to see you, Ares. How's your father?"

Ares nods and takes a seat. "He's good. Sends his regards," he says and turns to me. "Sorry about the gallery, friend. How's your woman?"

"She'll be better when I deliver her the heads of every Russian mafia member in Chicago."

Ares laughs. "That's why I'm here. I thought you might want some help with that delivery."

Enzo nods and takes a seat behind his desk. "And what would the Kastaris family want in return for such gracious assistance?"

Ares sits forward. "First, I don't need to remind the room of my family's loyalty and friendship. We'd offer some help no matter what, as I told Gio, but now—now real action is required, and a war will be fought, so my father wants a little something in return." He leans back.

"I'm all ears," Zo says.

"The Russians have been encroaching on our shipping routes for months," Ares explains. "We've been looking for an excuse to push back. This gives us one." He strokes his beard. "In exchange for our help, we want the waterfront district and the three blocks surrounding it."

Enzo's eyes narrow. "A little something? That's prime territory."

"Well, we're offering prime assistance," Ares counters smoothly.

I step forward. "What kind of assistance?"

Ares leans forward in his chair. "Information, for starters. We know that Mikhail Petrov and a crew are arriving at Pier 17 tomorrow at midnight. They're picking up a shipment of weapons from Albania."

My pulse quickens. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Six men, maybe seven. Heavily armed, but vulnerable when they're loading."

Marco interjects. "If we hit them at the docks, the Russians will know their plans were leaked. They'll suspect the Greeks immediately."

"We know," Ares says simply. "We're prepared for the consequences. It's time to draw lines in this city again, hence the desire for territory expansion."