Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Alexei
The tension in the meeting room was enough to strangle a person. It wasn’t something you could see or touch, but it pressed in just the same, settling into the space among everyone seated at the table.
My father Mikhail Drakovich sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed in a way that meant absolutely nothing. There was no ease in him, not when business like this was at stake.
Viktor, my father’s brother, sat to his right, his expression tight, his focus already locked on me like he’d been waiting for confirmation of something he didn’t want to be right about.
Father leaned back in his chair across from him, one arm draped over the side, but there was nothing casual about the way he watched me.
“Talk,” he said, addressing me.
“The hit wasn’t random,” I said, my voice steady as I held his gaze. “It was coordinated and precise, and it was aimed directly at us. At our supply.”
That shifted the room, not because it surprised them but because it confirmed what had been building beneath the surface.
“Be specific,” Viktor said, his tone sharper now.
“It came through our southern shipping line,” I continued. “The warehouse near East Coast docks. The one we use to move product through before it gets distributed inland.”
My father straightened slightly at that, the first real reaction from him. “That location isn’t public.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not.” Which meant exactly what we were all thinking.
“They had inside information,” Viktor muttered.
“Or they’ve been watching us longer than we realized,” I said.
Neither option worked in our favor.
“The shipment they targeted wasn’t minor,” I continued. “Weapons, cash flow tied to three different territories, and enough leverage to cripple distribution for weeks if it had been successful.”
“And it wasn’t,” my father said, his voice calm but pointed.
“No,” I said, “because we intercepted it before they could finish it.”
That part mattered. Because it showed us the intention. This hadn’t been a test. It had been an opening move.
“They weren’t trying to take a single hit,” my father said, his tone thoughtful now, his mind already working through the implications. “They were trying to disrupt the infrastructure.”
“Exactly,” I said. “They weren’t aiming for damage. They were aiming for control.”
Silence settled over the table at that, heavier than before, because there was no mistaking what that meant.
The Rossi family wasn’t just another name in the criminal world. They were one of the oldest and most deeply rooted Italian syndicates with control over key ports, strong political ties, and enough influence to shift entire operations without ever stepping into the light.
“They’ve been pushing into our ports for months,” Viktor said, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “Expanding routes, tightening control over shipments moving through their territory. We’ve seen it.”
“We’ve ignored it,” my father corrected, “because it wasn’t direct.”
“It’s direct now,” I said.
My father leaned back slightly, his gaze steady on me, taking it in without interruption. He didn’t speak right away which meant he was already thinking three steps ahead of where this was.
“Why?” he asked finally.
That was the only question that mattered.
“Because control of our ports shifts everything,” I said.
“If they take that line from us, they don’t just weaken our position, they strengthen theirs.
They control movement, distribution, and leverage across multiple territories.
It puts them in position to dictate terms instead of negotiating them. ”
“And they think we’ll let that happen?” Viktor said, his voice edged with disbelief.
“No,” I said evenly. “They think they can force us into a position where we don’t have a choice.”
This wasn’t about a single hit or loss. This was about pressure and forcing movement. It was about backing us into a corner where every response came with a cost.
“They’re pushing for war,” Viktor said.
“They’re preparing for it,” Father corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It becomes the same thing if we respond the wrong way,” I added.
My father’s gaze flicked between us before settling back on me. “And what would you consider the wrong way?”
“Retaliation without control,” I said without hesitation. “If we strike back immediately, we give them exactly what they want. Escalation followed by justification. They’ll have a reason to turn this into something bigger.”
“And if we don’t respond?” Viktor asked, the bloodlust thick in my uncle’s voice.
“They keep pushing,” Father said.
“Yes,” I said. “They do, and then it’s an all-out fucking bloodbath.”
That was the problem because every option moved us closer to the same place. War.
My father quieted for a moment, his fingers tapping once against the table before going still again. When he spoke, his voice was calm, measured, and decisive.
“We can’t afford a war with the ‘Ndrangheta,” he said.
A murmur of agreement filled the room.
My father’s gaze moved to me again, sharp and deliberate, and I knew before he even said it what direction he was taking… how to diffuse this before too many ended up dead with no real solution.
“We don’t escalate,” he said. “We control the situation before it forces our hand.”
“And what the hell does that mean?” Viktor asked, frustration creeping into his tone.
I exhaled slowly, working through it, already seeing where this was going before he put words to it. “You want proximity,” I said.
His attention sharpened, and he nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Not peace,” I stated. “Access.”
“Control,” he corrected.
“Through them,” I said.
“Through us,” he replied with a smirk.
The distinction didn’t matter because the outcome was what mattered.
Viktor leaned forward slightly, his expression hard. “You’re talking about aligning with the same family that just tried to cripple one of our primary operations?”
My father’s gaze sharpened on his brother, silently reminding him who was in charge. “I’m talking about preventing this from turning into something that costs us more than our supply and distribution,” he said.
“And how exactly do you expect to secure that kind of alignment?” Viktor asked, though there was already a shift in his tone, like he was starting to see it, too.
My father didn’t hesitate in his response. “We bind the families together.”
The words settled heavily in the room. They carried weight that couldn’t be ignored once they were spoken.
Viktor let out a low curse under his breath, and the other men in the room shifted under the weight of that proclamation.
My father leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable now, but there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
“You’re serious,” Viktor finally said.
“I don’t speak lightly about things like this.”
“No,” Viktor said. “I know you don’t. I’m just shocked this is the route you’re going, even if I can see the benefit.
” He ran a hand over his jaw, contemplating.
“But if they suspect we are trying to gain the upper hand, if they see this as some kind of setup?” He continued, “They could use this to get closer and finish what they started.”
“Then we’ll be close enough to see it before it happens,” my father said. “And close enough to end it.” His gaze shifted to me. “I don’t have to ask your thoughts. I know you’re on board.”
I nodded. “Always. Do you think they’ll agree to it?”
“They will,” my father responded and went back to tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “They know they’re not ready for full-scale war. This benefits both families.”
This gave us time to watch and see, and allowed us time to decide whether this would become something contained or something that burned everything down with it.
“And who exactly do you plan on offering?” Viktor asked, though the answer was already sitting in the room.
My father didn’t look away from me when he spoke. “Alexei. Anyone else would be an insult.”
I held his gaze, letting the weight of it settle without letting it show on my face.
“What makes you think they’ll offer someone worth that kind of exchange?” Viktor asked.
“They will,” my father said. “They understand exactly what this is. A deal that benefits both sides.”
“Who are you thinking?” I asked finally.
My father didn’t hesitate. “Lucia Rossi.”
Her name settled in the room. The daughter of the head of the ‘Ndrangheta crime family was a valuable asset.
I held his gaze, letting that reality sit where it needed to. This wasn’t about whether I agreed or not. It never was when it came to decisions like this. This was about leverage and control.
“A marriage won’t stop what they’ve already started,” I said, my voice even, not challenging, just stating the truth of it.
“No,” my father replied just as evenly, “but it will force them to reconsider how far they’re willing to take it.”
“And if they don’t?” Viktor asked, his tone edged but quieter now, like even he understood where this was going.
“Then we’ll already be in a position to respond before they make their next move,” my father said. “Closer than we’ve ever been.”
I let out a slow breath. I was weighing the decision because I was stepping into it already understanding what this would require and what it would cost. Because there was no version of this where it stayed simple, and there sure as hell wasn’t one where it stayed clean.
“Then we do it,” I said.
There was no hesitation in it, no room left for argument. Dragging this out didn’t change what needed to be done.
My father gave a single nod, like that was the only response he’d expected from me, and just like that, it was decided.
The Rossi family had made their move when they targeted our operation, when they tried to take control of something that wasn’t theirs to touch, and this—this was ours.
Not retaliation. Not yet. But something far more dangerous.
Because if they thought tying our families together would give them an advantage, if they thought this would give them a way to get closer without consequence, then they didn’t understand who they were dealing with.
And by the time they did…
It would already be too late.