40. Pietro
PIETRO
WE PIVOT OR WE FALL
W e’re heading down the highway in our armored Hummer.
We could easily be mistaken as men out on military maneuvers by a civilian.
I’ve seen convoys like this before after natural disasters.
We’re four armored hummers, and each is filled with men and a game plan.
The lead men are mic’d up like a security team to the President, but Matteo is calling the shots.
My gut is filled with angst, hoping tonight goes off without a hitch.
But I’m asking too much. We’re the Borrellis, and if we didn’t have bad luck, we’d have no luck at all.
We plan to attack Milo? at our warehouse. We used weapons as bait. Now we need the rat to walk into the trap.
But we all know that when men make plans, God laughs.
And he’s got a wicked sense of humor.
That’s when my watch alerts me that Amara’s tracker is outside its programmed area.
“FUCK!” I yell, startling everyone in the vehicle because we’re already on edge.
Amara’s necklace pings. She’s on the move. I assume she’s been taken, but no one knows where the safe house is, unless I was followed. But I’m careful. I would have known.
My brother turns to me, giving me a look of concern and confusion .
“Amara’s left the house,” I explain.
What the fuck is she doing? Where is Arman?
“The Hummer has left the safe house!” My call to Arman goes to voicemail. This isn’t good.
Everyone is shocked, no one more so than I.
And that’s when the silence is filled with the chilling ring of Matteo’s burner phone.
“How the fuck did this happen?” His voice echoes the desperation of a plan that has gone awry.
He sets the phone in his lap, then runs a hand down his agitated face and says, “Vukan called. We have a new target. The warehouse on Pearl Street.”
“How do we know he’s telling us the truth?” Renalto asks.
“We don’t.” Matteo’s face is thoughtful but terse.
We’re sitting on pins and needles, which is a lie. The crew is, but I’m a bomb ready to detonate. I would attack him in a second if it meant he would reply the information quicker.
Luckily for him, he continues, “Milo? went crazy. Vukan couldn’t dissuade him without tipping his hand.
It appears he wants Amara more than Pietro, which is the right play.
” He pauses to take a breath. “He’s flushed Amara out of hiding using her grandmother as bait.
He has men sitting in her condo surrounded by Serbs dressed as cable repairmen.
Bianca and Amara are en route to meet him at his warehouse on Pearl Street. ”
“Bianca?” I question him in disbelief.
“You heard me. She’s savvy, but she’s walking into a possible ambush. Amara will be taken and kept alive. I’m not so sure about Bianca.”
“Dammit!” Renalto exclaims. “I should have killed the Serb when I had the chance.”
“Fuck!” I roar, punching the seat before me with my fist, wishing it were Petrovi?’s face.
This is not what we planned. Now, we’re winging it.
This is a sudden location change, and now our mission is in disarray.
We’re so fucked, a blind person trying to thread a needle would have an advantage over us .
“You made the right call at the time. We all did. We temporarily stopped their flesh trade, but he’s brought the war to our doorstep this time. Now, we can take him out without retribution.”
Matteo texts Bianca and tells her to stand down. I’m not surprised when there is no reply. Who knows if the message reached her? She may be fighting for her life.
Fuck, and double fuck.
I take a deep breath to pull myself together because I don’t have time to lament the most probable outcome of the mission. There can only be one outcome—putting Petrovi? down like a rabid dog. He touched my woman, and he will die.
And Stefano? His days are numbered. He put a hit on me, and he’s hit Amara.
Tonight will be like no other because the future of our family is riding on it.
The journey to our destination is short, but to me, it stretches to eternity.
The warehouse reeks of dust, oil, and sweat—the kind of place meant for blood, not business. It’s quiet. Too quiet.
There are just enough steel crates to make it look like Petrovi? is hiding weapons here, but in reality, this place is lighter than a priest’s conscience.
Matteo stands beside me, silent, watching the warehouse doors with predator stillness. We wait.
And then—footsteps.
Doors creak. Shadows stretch.
Matteo walks in first, flanked by a dozen men—cold eyes, twitchy fingers on triggers.
Our men move into the location. We have the advantage of surprise, and Matteo sends men to every shadow as we make a silent entrance. Niccoló and Renalto circle outside. Everyone is tense and nervous. They’re not just following orders.
They’re following a monster.
Men are silently put down. The Serb flag practically bleeds from the tattoos inked on the throats of the men we knocked out, being mindful not to divulge our presence.
And I know that at this moment, Vukan is pulling strings from the dark; otherwise, we would have been met with gunfire.
We methodically work our way through the warehouse, and we come upon a clearing, and there stands Petrovi?, his beady eyes looking crazed and hazy, like a man on heroin. But under it is a no-holds-barred attitude—like this isn’t a death trap waiting to be sprung.
“Where is he?” he growls. “I want to see Pietro.”
I step forward from the shadows. “You’re looking at him.”
He has his arm around Amara. A glance confirms Vukan has possession of my sister.
Milo?’s mouth curls into a smile. He’s all teeth and ego.
“You’ve been busy. I’ve lost good men thanks to your little games.
” He gives me an evil glare. “Stefano wanted first crack at you, Pietro. But me? I just want this bitch because she fucked me over. I’m a man of my word, and when she didn’t play along, I lost face with the men I lead.
We both know she has to honor the contract.
It’s the only way this ends. No one disrespects me, not even an Italian princess. There are consequences—you understand.”
Before he can respond, another voice echoes through the warehouse.
“Where’s Pietro?”
Stefano.
My blood runs cold as he walks out of the darkness and stands beside Milo?. He’s wearing a smug expression and is flanked by two of his lieutenants.
“I’m here.” I step forward.
“She’s easy to manipulate,” Stefano says, giving his daughter an indifferent look.
“I know you’d follow her if you thought she was in danger.
Amara is loyal to those she loves. She’s young and filled with delusions of how she can live outside the family—without my power and money, she’s nothing.
Once I saw that you loved her, it made it easy to manipulate tonight’s events.
She loves her grandmother as much as she loves you.
” He pauses before he gives us his dramatic confession.
“Elio would have had you at the club if it weren’t for his obsession with my daughter’s safety. ”
I suspected it was him, so his admission doesn’t faze me. In fact, I’m elated because now we can kill him outright. And he’s so lost in his delusion of power that he doesn’t know he’s living and breathing on borrowed time.
Besides, he used her. Used her loyalty and her heart as a weapon.
And this is the last time he ever gets to do that.
Petrovi? holds Amara to him like a human shield.
He’s a coward.
I hate cowards.
I glance at Bianca, her eyes full of defiance as Vukan has her securely in his grasp. She doesn’t know he’s on our side. I pray to God he still is.
Matteo steps forward, slow and steady, the gravel beneath his shoes crunching like bones. It’s as if the night is unfolding as a slow-motion reel. Part of me wants to speed ahead to learn the ending, and the other half dreads that we might not be victorious.
“This ends tonight,” Matteo says, like this is a negotiation.
Petrovi? sneers. “It can. I have a deal.” He gestures lazily with his pistol. “I take her,” he roughly pulls Amara to him, “and Pietro lives.”
My fists curl at my sides. But Matteo doesn’t hesitate.
“I don’t think so, Milo?.”
And then?—
Crack. Ping.
Gunfire explodes through the warehouse.
Chaos ensues in its wake.
I dive, gun drawn, as bullets rip through crates and scream past my head. Men are shouting—ours and theirs—some are already hitting the ground .
Matteo’s barking orders. Renalto storms in through the side door, blasting two Serbs before they can raise their weapons.
I look up and thank God, Niccoló is a shadow in the rafters, a sniper’s rifle kissing his shoulder.
I roll behind a crate and fire off two clean shots, hitting one of Milo?’s guards in the chest.
Vukan shoots Stefano point-blank in the head.
“Where’s Milo??” I shout into the commotion.
“Back left,” Matteo calls.
Good.
I run.
And as bullets ricochet, as gunfire swallows the air, I know one thing?—
This ends now.
He doesn’t get to touch her again.
And that’s when I find him, standing like a cornered animal with a gun to Amara’s head. One of us won’t make it out alive.
The frozen look on his face confirms that he never suspected his brother was helping us.
An eye for an eye.
“Any last words?”
“I’ll take that bitch from you if it’s the last thing I…”
I look to Amara, and our eyes lock in a gaze I’ll remember forever. Her defiance kicks in, and she elbows Milo?. It causes him to lose his grip on Amara, and she pulls away just enough for me to take my shot. I hit him in the head.
He crumples, falling forward. I move in and kick his gun aside before grabbing Amara and pulling her into me. She’s in shock, but other than that, she looks fine.
I lean down, taking one last look at Milo?. With Amara under my arm, I holster my gun and join our men.
The warehouse is silent. Everyone knew the Morettis were running low on their luck, and the fact that the marriage contract wasn’t fulfilled, it’s only fitting that Vukan was the one to pull the trigger that killed Stefano .
The deal was that I would kill Milo?. This way, everyone is happy as Vukan saves face with his men, which prevents him from inheriting dissent within the ranks.
The optics are better, but even at that, it’s not ideal.
This is a sticky situation, and there are always men who ask questions they shouldn’t.
The Serbian men work to collect their dead. I return to the fray and note that Bianca stands next to Matteo, but her eyes focus on Vukan. She’s abnormally quiet. That’s strange.
Vukan’s face is filled with a softness I can’t read. But he quickly diverts his keen eyes from my sister and turns to us.
I joined my brother at Matteos’ side just in time to hear Vukan say, “I always hated him. He was a menace even when we were children. I knew he was ruthless, but I drew the line at killing innocent women and children. That’s not what I’m about.”
It all syncs. This is a double murder wrapped in vendettas and payback. Vukan hated the flesh trade, but he couldn’t question it under his brother’s regime. As the new leader, he can change their operations without causing an internal power struggle. It was a win/win for both of us.
“Milo? would have had us all go down with him. He was irrational, and the men were worried he’d prematurely lead them all to an early grave,” Vukan adds as he instructs his men to take Petrovi?’s body for a proper burial. “A favor for a favor,” says Vukan, shaking Matteo’s hand.
“A favor for a favor,” Matteo murmurs.
I know I should be concerned, but for now, I’m just relieved that this chapter is finally over.
“I think we should broker arms together. My man in Europe is cheaper than yours,” Vukan says, nonchalantly, initiating an alliance.
Matteo chuckles. “We’ll talk.”
Our men carry our fallen soldiers. We have to clear the scene before our cover is blown.
I clap Matteo on the back, and he says, “God, I hate owing anyone an unspecified favor,” Matteo says with an uneven voice.
He’s concerned about something .
“You did what needed to be done. And we live to fight another day,” Niccoló says, but Matteo’s face darkens.
“Y’know, no matter what he asks for, I have to honor it,” Matteo says with a somber face, like he’s sending us a message.
It takes a beat to internalize his weighted words.
Then, the meaning behind his words hit home.
Oh, hell no!
“Did you just seal the fate of our sister?” I ask.
“Well,” Niccoló says, “that’s a helluva way to end a war.” A smirk forms on his lips. “If that’s the case, Bianca is gonnna be pissed…”