44. Connor
Chapter 44
Connor
The low hum of the approaching jet vibrates through the air, a sleek, unmarked thing cutting through the gray sky. I stand at the edge of the private landing strip, my hands shoved deep into my pockets as the plane touches down with precision.
The wind kicks up around me, rustling the edges of my jacket, but I barely feel the bite of the cold. My mind is already racing ahead to the meeting and what we’re about to discuss.
This isn’t just any meeting. It’s a gathering of the most powerful men in our world—the Five Crowns, minus one. The fact that they’re arriving on Christian Drakos’ jet rather than their own speaks volumes. Vito doesn’t know this meeting is happening. And that means, for the first time in a long time, we’re moving without him.
As the jet slows to a stop, the doors open, and one by one, they step out.
Dmitri Mikhailov is first, his gaze sweeping over the landing strip with quiet calculation. He’s always been the most composed of us, the one who never shows his hand unless he has to. His father ruled with brutality, but Dmitri? He’s something else entirely. Colder. Smarter. Deadlier.
Ion Vasile follows, his sharp blue eyes taking everything in. He’s leaner than the rest of us, but no one in their right mind underestimates him. The Romanian Crown plays his cards close to his chest, always watching, always waiting.
Mihai steps out after his father. We exchange a glance, and I know he’s already guessing why I called them here. He nods once, barely perceptible, but it’s enough.
Giovanni Basile emerges after him, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, his dark eyes flashing. Gio has always been smooth, charming when he wants to be, and ruthless when necessary. Right now, his presence is proof that this war with Vito is no longer just speculation.
Nikolai steps out beside him, and even after everything, after months of betrayal and fractured trust, something in my chest loosens at the sight of him. He meets my gaze, nods slightly, and I return it. It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s a step toward something.
And then there’s Christian Drakos. The old man moves with the weight of history on his shoulders, his silver hair combed back, his eyes sharp as ever. He was a king long before the rest of us had even been born, a man whose name still carries enough weight to make people pause. His presence here is more than just a courtesy—it’s a statement. Drakos may not be an official Crown yet, but he’s as much a ruler in this world as the rest of us.
Konstantin steps out after his grandfather, exuding the kind of effortless danger that makes people take a step back without even realizing why. He moves with the kind of arrogance that isn’t forced but earned; the easy, predatory confidence of someone who’s spent his entire life knowing exactly what he’s capable of.
He speaks when necessary, fights when pushed, and kills when required. No wasted movement, no unnecessary words. A lesson learned from years of surviving under a father who would’ve rather seen him fail.
“So,” he drawls, his accent light but unmistakable, “who are we killing this time?”
The corner of my lip lifts in amusement, but I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Conference room,” I say, turning on my heel and leading them toward the estate.
No one argues.
Inside, the conference room is exactly as it always is—dark wood, leather chairs, the scent of whiskey and cigars lingering in the air. Da is already seated at the head of the table, his green eyes sharp and waiting.
As everyone takes their seats, the weight of the moment settles over the room. No one speaks at first, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, my father breaks the silence.
“Well,” Da starts, his accent thick, his tone dry. “Let’s get to it.”
I glance at Sofia, who is seated near the corner of the room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looks different now, smaller somehow, the usual arrogance she once carried stripped away.
I exhale, leaning forward. “Sofia has information on Vito,” I start, my voice steady. “Information we didn’t have before.”
Every pair of eyes in the room shifts to her, and to her credit, she doesn’t flinch.
She clears her throat. “My father was in deeper than any of you realized,” she says, her voice steady. “The human trafficking trade wasn’t just a side deal for him—it was his main fucking business.”
The room shifts, the atmosphere darkening. No one here deals in that filth. It’s one of the unspoken rules, a fucking line you don’t cross.
“And Vito?” Dmitri prompts, his blue eyes glinting under the overhead lights.
Sofia meets his gaze. “Vito wanted to expand to kids, but my father refused, up until five years ago when Vito started blackmailing him. My father saw the extent of Vito’s dealings and wanted out, but he knew my father would try to escape after being let out on bail, so he had him killed. From the call I overheard, Vito was gearing up to take the current Crowns out and replace them with like-minded people.”
The room is silent for a long moment before Dmitri exhales, his fingers tapping against the table. “So Vito is a child trafficking kingpin,” he says, his voice like steel. “And he’s willing to take us all out to keep that power.”
Ion shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “The fucker’s more ambitious than we thought.”
“No,” Christian Drakos murmurs, his voice rough but certain. “He’s desperate.”
My father nods. “He knows he doesn’t have enough power to make a move unless he eliminates us first.” He exhales slowly. “And he’s been makin’ alliances.”
Mihai glances at me. “Anthony Dawson.”
I nod. “Along with Sergei Volkov and Alberto Giannini.”
Nikolai tenses beside me. “Sergei is a problem.”
Dmitri nods. “If Vito has him, then he has resources we can’t afford to ignore. Political resources.”
Giovanni steeples his fingers. “So what do we do?”
A beat of silence stretches, then Christian Drakos exhales, shaking his head. “We cut the fucking head off before the body moves.”
Dmitri smirks slightly. “For a man not in the Five, you sure sound like one of us.”
Drakos gives him a look. “Let’s not pretend we don’t all know where this is going, Mikhailov.”
Dmitri’s smirk widens. “Fair enough.”
The room is quiet again, but this time, it’s not uncertainty that lingers in the air. It’s something heavier.
Finality.
We all knew this was coming—had known it since the second Vito made his first move against us. The difference now is that we aren’t just talking about cutting off the head of the snake. We’re burning the whole fucking pit.
Giovanni leans forward, his elbows resting on the polished wood of the table. His dark eyes flick between all of us, calculating, considering. “The coup is still happening at my wedding,” he says, voice steady, final. “That hasn’t changed, right?”
“No,” my father agrees, exhaling slowly. “What’s changed is that it won’t just be you takin’ the throne.” His gaze sweeps across the table, landing on each of us one by one. “Vito dies. But not just by Giovanni’s hand.”
A slow smirk stretches across Ion’s lips. “We’re all making this kill.”
Dmitri nods once, sharp. “It sends a message.”
Mihai folds his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “No one will question the legitimacy of the transfer of power if the other Crowns are the ones to take him out.”
I glance at Giovanni, watching the way his jaw tightens, the way something dark flickers in his gaze. He’s wanted this for years—wanted his father’s blood on his hands, wanted to tear him down and build something new in his place. But now, he sees what we all see. That this isn’t about one man’s vengeance anymore.
This is about erasing a threat that’s been growing in the shadows, about making sure this empire doesn’t fall into the wrong fucking hands.
Giovanni exhales, nodding. “We take him out together.”
My father shifts his attention, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s only part of the problem.” He looks between the four of us, and then his gaze flicks to Konstantin. “Vito has made alliances, and we need to start takin’ them out.”
Dmitri leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests like a king surveying his court. “Mainly, Sergei Volkov.”
Nikolai tenses beside me, his expression darkening. “The Volkovs need to be handled.”
Handled. That’s one way to put it.
“We can’t just kill Sergei and call it a day,” Mihai adds. “The Volkov family has deep roots. If we don’t rip them out completely, they’ll just grow back.”
Da nods. “Which is why you five,” his gaze flicks between us, “are going to take care of them.”
Giovanni straightens slightly. “All of them?”
My father’s jaw tightens. “Wipe them out covertly.”
Silence stretches, thick and heavy.
My pulse thrums in my ears, but I don’t argue. There’s nothing to argue about. We knew this would be bloody, knew it would take more than one kill to end this. The Volkovs have been a problem for years, but if Sergei has thrown in with Vito, it means he’s betting on taking the Russian Crown once Dmitri is out of the way.
That isn’t fucking happening.
Nikolai cracks his neck. “Where do we start?”
Dmitri exhales slowly, watching us with something unreadable in his expression. “Sergei operates out of Rhode Island,” he says. “But his biggest strongholds are here in Europe. London. Berlin. Amsterdam.” He taps his fingers against the table. “You’ll need to move fast.”
Mihai lets out a low chuckle. “You make it sound like it’s going to be difficult.”
Dmitri smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s not going to be easy. Sergei has been preparing for war. He’s not going to roll over and die just because we showed up.”
“Good,” Giovanni murmurs, something dark curling around his words. “I was hoping for a challenge.”
Da exhales, rubbing his temple. “Christ, I should’ve retired years ago.” Then he turns his attention to Konstantin, who has been quiet throughout the entire conversation. “This will be your final test, lad.”
Konstantin’s dark eyes lift to him. “You want me to prove myself.”
My father nods. “You want a place among us? Then you’ll take your place beside them.”
Konstantin’s gaze flicks to Nikolai for a brief second before settling back on my father. “I won’t disappoint you.”
My father doesn’t nod right away, just watches him for a long moment, considering. Then he exhales. “See that you don’t.”
Christian leans forward. “This will change things.” His gaze sweeps across all of us, his voice calm but certain. “Once Vito is gone, once the Volkovs are dealt with, the Five Crowns will look different than they ever have before.”
Giovanni meets his gaze, steady. “That’s the point.”
Drakos nods slowly, approval flickering in his eyes.
The weight of what we’re about to do settles deep in my chest, but I don’t fight it.
It’s about fucking time.