Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Alexei
The council room was already full when I walked in. Every seat at the table was taken, the older men in the Bratva sitting where they always did, watching, waiting.
These weren’t just soldiers or captains. These were the men who ran everything, the ones who made the decisions that kept power where it belonged.
The door shut behind me, and the room went quiet. No one greeted me or spoke. They didn’t need to.
Everyone knew why we were here.
This wasn’t a routine meeting or something that could be handled and forgotten by the end of the night. This was about control. About who kept it and who lost it.
I took my seat without acknowledging anyone directly, letting my gaze move over the room once before settling forward. The Bratva leadership sat in their usual positions, older men who had built their names through blood and held on to power by never letting anything slip through their control.
Some watched me with open curiosity about how things went with my new bride. Others didn’t bother hiding their interest in how this would play out.
“You called this,” one of the older men said, but there was no challenge in it. Just expectation. “Let’s hear it.”
I didn’t rush to answer. I let the silence sit for a second then set the folder down on the table in front of me. The sound was quiet, but it was enough. Every eye in the room was already on me anyway.
“This is why we’re here,” I said as I pushed the file forward.
No one moved to pick the folder up, only staring at it on the table. They already knew what was up. The hit on our routes, the tension with the Rossi family, the marriage that was supposed to settle things. None of that needed repeating. What I was putting in front of them now was what came next.
One of the older men pulled the file to him and opened it, flipping through the pages slowly. His eyes moved over the names, the dates, the locations, and I watched the moment he began to connect the dots.
“These are their people,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “The ones moving things. Not the bosses. The ones doing the dirty work.”
“The expendable.” Another man leaned in, scanning the next page. “You’ve got timing in here.”
“Pickups. Transfers. Drop points,” I said. “It shows when they move and where.”
“And the money?” someone else asked.
“Who’s getting paid and how often,” I answered. “Same names showing up across multiple runs. It all ties together.”
The man holding the file shut it and sat back, his jaw tight. “So they’re still running operations like nothing changed.”
“They are,” I said.
A low murmur moved through the room.
“They make a deal with us,” one of them said, “tie their daughter to you, and still keep pushing like this?”
Before I could respond, one of the men farther down the table spoke, his tone cutting through the rest. “It’s not Rossi who ordered the hit.”
That pulled the room’s attention fast.
“What are you talking about?” someone snapped.
He didn’t look away from me when he spoke. “We picked up one of their grunts last night,” he said. “Low-level. Moves product. Takes orders. Nothing important. But he was motivated enough to talk.”
“What did he give you?” my father asked.
“He said the targets and hits aren’t coming from Rossi leadership,” the man replied. “Not the old man. Not the capos. This is separate.”
“Separate how?” someone pressed.
The man’s gaze flicked toward me before he answered. “The bastard’s doing.”
A few of them shifted at that, expressions tightening.
“Francesco’s boy,” he added. “Alessio. The one he never put his name on.”
“He’s been running his mouth,” the man continued. “Telling people he’s Rossi blood. That it’s only a matter of time before he steps in and takes his place. Using the family name to build something under the radar.”
“So he thinks blood alone gives him power,” my father spat.
“He’s acting like it does,” the first man said. “Pulling smaller crews, setting up his own routes, and making his own deals. The grunt said he’s keeping it tight.”
“And Francesco?” someone asked. “He knows what his bastard’s doing?”
“He knows he exists,” the man replied. “That’s it. If he knew about what he was doing, it wouldn’t be allowed.”
“So this isn’t Rossi making a move,” I finally said slowly. “It’s a kid trying to build his own name off it.”
“And he’s doing it by hitting our lines,” someone added.
“You’re going to handle that,” my father said. It wasn’t a question.
All eyes came back to me. “Yes,” I said.
“How?” My uncle pressed. “Because now we’ve got someone tied to Rossi blood making plays that could drag the whole family into it.”
“I’ll deal with it,” I said. “Before it gets that far.”
“And Francesco?” someone else asked. “Do we tell him what’s going on?”
“No. We’ll keep this close,” I replied. “Until we’re given a reason not to.”
“That’s a gamble,” one of the men said.
The room stayed quiet for a second then the tension shifted again, more tense now.
“You brought her into your house,” one of the older men said, his attention locking on me. “And now her blood is tied to this.”
I didn’t answer right away.
“If her father’s bastard is making moves like this,” he continued, “then anything connected to that family becomes leverage whether you like it or not.”
Another man leaned forward slightly. “Which means she’s still a risk.”
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze moving across the table before settling on him. The urge to reach across and slit his throat for even mentioning my wife burned hot in my veins. “She’s not part of this,” I said.
“You don’t know that,” he replied.
“I do,” I said, my voice steady.
“You’re telling us she’s clean while her own blood is out there building something behind everyone’s back?” another man asked.
I curled my hands into fists but stayed quiet. Several men shifted, sensing the volatile energy vibrating from me.
“We’re taking a risk keeping her linked to us,” one of the older men said.
I leaned forward and couldn’t stop the deep, violent sound that left me. “Everyone better choose their words really fucking wisely when it concerns my wife.”
“You know what the expectation is,” he replied. “You eliminate anything that can be used against us.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t shift my tone. “You don’t touch what’s mine,” I said.
The silence that followed was an understanding. They knew exactly what that meant.
“We’ve got Rossi blood making moves against you,” another added. “You see how that looks.”
“I do,” I said. “But Lucia isn’t involved. And she is a Drakovich now.”
“This is fucked. You need to handle this. Get rid of the bitch,” one motherfucker said, and that crossed the line.
I didn’t raise my voice or give a warning.
I just moved. My hand fisted the front of his shirt and slammed him back into the chair hard enough it scraped across the floor.
Before the fucker could recover, my other hand closed around his throat, squeezing so I cut off whatever he thought he was going to say next.
I leaned in close, letting him feel exactly how thin the line was he’d just stepped over. “You don’t speak about my wife,” I said, my voice low and even, the kind that didn’t need to be raised to be understood. “Ever.”
My grip tightened so his breath hitched, to remind him how easily I could choke him out if I chose. I held him there for a second longer, waiting for him to acknowledge I held his life in my hands right now.
“No offense, Alexei. My apologies,” he croaked, pulling at my hands.
I held him like that and stared into his eyes for a moment longer before letting go, stepping back like nothing had happened as my message settled into every man at that table. I smoothed my hands down my suit jacket and took my seat once more.
My father leaned back slightly, watching me for a long second before speaking again. “Alexei will take care of it,” he said. “And the bastard… he needs to understand who and what he is up against.”
I stared at my father and inclined my head once. “Understood.”
My father nodded, my answer enough for him.
The conversation moved on after that, turning to what to do next, who moved where, and which men I took with me. No one went back over what had already happened. This was about what came next.
By the time the meeting ended, a plan had been set into motion. The men filed out one by one, voices low as they stepped into the hall. I stayed where I was, the file back in front of me.
Francesco’s bastard had gone rogue, and we couldn’t let that slide. I didn’t know much about Francesco’s illegitimate children, but I’d find out everything on Alessio. I had to believe he was just a kid with a blood tie that he was trying to use as leverage to make a name for himself.
I leaned back in my chair, letting that settle, then reached for the file again.
I wasn’t reading it this time. I was thinking about Lucia and if she even knew about her half brother.
It didn’t matter if she did or if she knew what Alessio was involved with.
She was mine, and I wasn’t letting her go, even if she would be considered a traitor by the Bratva for knowing this information.
I had one problem now, and I’d handle it the same way I handled everything else. I’d eliminate the threat before it had time to turn into a bigger problem.
But before that, I was going home to my wife and stake my claim over and over again until I could convince myself no one would take her from me.