Chapter 13 Matteo
MATTEO
Neutral ground is a pretty concept. A gentleman’s agreement between men who’ve long forgotten what it means to be civilized.
The reality is simpler.
Both sides show up armed to the fucking teeth, and the only thing keeping anyone from pulling a trigger is the guarantee of mutual annihilation.
Fear of death. That’s the real treaty.
Kozlov arrived first. Lorenzo let him. Gave the bastard his little power play, the illusion of control. But I can see it in the way the Pakhan’s men stand—shoulders tight, hands hovering near weapons. They know they’re in a cage, same as us.
This war has been grinding on for two years. Bodies on both sides. Territory disputes. Retaliations that breed more retaliations. And this is the first time Lorenzo and Kozlov have sat down face to face to try to end it.
I already know how it’s going to go. But Lorenzo has to try.
The gentleman’s club smells like whiskey and cigar smoke, thick enough to coat my tongue.
Lorenzo walks ahead of me, spine straight, expression carved from granite. I stay close. Too close for comfort, probably, but I don’t give a shit about his comfort right now. I care about keeping him breathing.
I count twelve of Kozlov’s guys. There are more. Has to be. Hidden in the back rooms, ready to flood in if this goes sideways.
If Lorenzo goes down, the organization survives. His son, Dario, takes over, and we keep moving. But watching the man who pulled me out of my darkest moment take a bullet in front of me? That’s not something I’m willing to let happen.
We settle into position. Lorenzo takes the chair across from Kozlov, and our soldiers fan out behind him in a defensive semicircle. The Bratva mirrors us.
My fingers twitch toward my gun. I could end this right now. Put a bullet between Kozlov’s eyes and deal with the consequences.
But I don’t. I stand rigid, scanning every face, cataloging every weapon, waiting for the first sign that this polite little meeting is about to become a bloodbath.
Kozlov leans back in his chair, studying Lorenzo with the lazy arrogance of a man who thinks he’s already won.
“You look like hell, Lorenzo.”
Disrespect. Right out of the gate. Testing boundaries.
Lorenzo doesn’t flinch. “And you’re aging poorly, Anton. Shall we move on?”
Annoyance flashes in Kozlov’s pale eyes. Or maybe it’s the kind of cold calculation that precedes violence.
“Fine.” Kozlov reaches for the crystal tumbler in front of him, turning it slowly between his fingers. The amber liquid catches the light. He doesn’t drink. Just holds it there, like he’s savoring something. “I want more territory.”
He says it like he’s ordering at a restaurant. Like it’s already settled.
That’s what makes my skin prickle. The men who scream and threaten, they’re predictable. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch. The ones who ask for the impossible like it’s already theirs.
To his credit, Lorenzo only looks bored. “Then find a city that isn’t already spoken for. Vegas isn’t the only place you can plant your flag.”
“You think you can drive me out?”
“I think it’s the only way you’ll get what you want. The Andrettis don’t surrender ground.”
Kozlov’s jaw tightens. A muscle jumps beneath the scar that runs from his temple to his cheekbone, pale and puckered against weathered skin. The man looks like what he is. A predator wearing a tailored suit.
“You’ve held power too long,” His voice drops to something quieter.
More dangerous. “It’s made you soft. Complacent.
” His gaze slides to the soldiers behind Lorenzo, then back.
“We all know how you value your family. Your men. It’s almost touching, really.
The way you pretend to be tough instead of what you actually are. ”
“And what’s that?”
“Weak. You’re a weak, pathetic ruler.”
The word hangs in the air. Lorenzo doesn’t react, but I feel the tension ratchet up a notch in the men behind me. Hands drift closer to weapons. Breathing goes shallow.
“I’m not a ruler,” Lorenzo says evenly. “I’m a leader. There’s a difference, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand it.”
Kozlov’s palm slams against the table.
The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot. Every soldier on both sides goes rigid. My hand closes around the grip of my gun before I even register moving.
For three heartbeats, nobody breathes.
I’m already doing the math. Kozlov first. Then the two flanking him. I’d take a bullet, maybe two, but Lorenzo would have time to get behind cover.
Then Kozlov smiles. Slow and cold and utterly devoid of warmth.
“I’ve been patient, Lorenzo. I’ve given you time to see reason.
To understand that sharing this city is the only outcome that doesn’t end with both our organizations bleeding out in the streets.
” He leans forward, and there’s something almost evangelical in his eyes.
True believer madness. “But my patience has limits. I want fifty percent of Andretti territory. And if you refuse...”
He lets the threat dangle, unfinished.
Lorenzo’s expression doesn’t change. “If I refuse?”
“Then I’ll be forced to escalate.”
The statement lands like a blade between my ribs.
Escalate. As if kidnapping one of our men and mailing pieces of his dismembered body to Lorenzo wasn’t escalation. As if the drive-by that nearly took out Dario wasn’t escalation. As if trying to grab Lorenzo’s wife, Mia, off the street wasn’t fucking escalation.
I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes bulge. I want to carve that smug expression off his face with a dull knife.
Instead, I stand perfectly still and imagine all the ways I’d love to make him pay for this.
The conversation grinds on for another hour. Lorenzo refuses to cede an inch. Kozlov makes thinly veiled threats. Nothing gets resolved.
I spend the whole time scanning the room, tracking Viktor’s absence like a missing tooth I can’t stop tonguing. He should be here. Kozlov’s most trusted soldier. But he’s not.
Because he’s out there somewhere. Stalking Sierra. Waiting for his chance to hurt her again.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
When the meeting finally ends, both groups file out with weapons still holstered and hatred still simmering.
A stalemate. For now.
We reconvene at the casino. The moment the door closes behind us in the private room, Santino’s careful composure cracks.
“That didn’t go well.”
Lorenzo drops into a chair and rubs his jaw. “What did you expect from someone like Kozlov? The man started this war. He’s not going to be the one to end it.”
“Then we need to go on the offensive.” Santino paces to the window, staring out at the glittering Vegas skyline. “He thinks he has the upper hand. We need to remind him what happens when you push the Andrettis too far.”
“The man only cares about power and money.”
“Then hit him where it hurts. His wallet.”
I step forward. “The construction company.”
Both men turn to look at me.
“It’s their biggest legitimate operation. They’re building a shopping center on the North side right now. Multi-million dollar deal.”
Lorenzo’s eyes sharpen with interest. “Go on.”
“We destroy the site. Make it impossible for them to fulfill the contract. Kozlov loses the deal, loses the money, loses face with his business partners.” I shrug. “It’s not as satisfying as putting a bullet in him, but it’ll hurt.”
A slow smile spreads across Lorenzo’s face. “I like it.”
He turns to Luca, who’s been listening from his spot against the wall, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Team up with Matteo. Destroy the building site. Make sure Kozlov loses that contract.”
Luca pushes off the wall. “Done.”
We leave Santino and Lorenzo to dissect the meeting’s finer points, making our way through the casino toward the exit.
“Tonight,” Luca says. “We can do it tonight.”
I don’t respond immediately. My mind is already somewhere else. On Sierra. The way she laughed when our lips accidentally met at the jewelry store. The warmth in her voice when she teases me. The way I’m less of an asshole when she’s around.
I’d rather be with her tonight than rigging explosives.
“Unless you have a problem with that?”
I shake my head. “No problem. I just... I was going to spend the evening with Sierra.”
Luca’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. Then he laughs, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Jesus, Matteo. I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re a dedicated man, I’ll give you that. Agreeing to marry some rando just to get to Viktor.”
Some rando.
The words hit wrong. Like a punch to a bruise I didn’t know I had.
I force a grin, but my jaw aches from holding it.
Sierra isn’t some random woman. She stopped being that somewhere between her teasing me about drinking so many Cokes and the moment she saw Viktor outside her building and let me hold her hands. She turned to me for comfort.
No one looks at me like she does. Like I’m something other than a threat.
I don’t know what to do with that yet.
“Tomorrow night,” Luca concedes. “Enjoy getting to know the woman you’re stuck with.”
I nod and walk away before he can see that something has shifted.
Stuck with.
I’m not sure that’s not how it feels anymore.