Chapter 9 #2
"I'd burn this city to the ground for her."
He nods once, the gesture carrying more weight than a thousand words. "Then your secret is safe, moy brat."
My brother.
Drake scrubs a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. "You should have come to us. We would have found another way to handle Marchetti."
"I know. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I just didn't account for what she'd do to me in the process. I was caught off guard by her beauty. Inside and out."
Drake nods. "I think Rafael and I can understand that.”
There’s a pause. Rafael holds his gaze on something out the window, but I know he’s listening.
“But what's done is done," Drake continues. He meets my eyes, and I see the moment he decides to stand with me despite my failures. "The secret stays here. But Luca, if this blows up in your face—"
"Then I'll handle the fallout. She's my wife. My responsibility. My problem to solve."
Rafael studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes missing nothing. Finally, he inclines his head. "Enzo Marchetti is a problem that needs solving regardless of your personal entanglements. Tell us what your intel has uncovered."
I move to the wall safe behind my desk, punching in the code and retrieving a thick folder stamped with Enzo's name. The papers inside represent months of work. Surveillance reports. Financial records. Witness statements. A catalogue of horrors that would make most men vomit.
"Enzo Marchetti isn't just a minor crime boss.
He's a monster wearing a businessman's suit.
" I spread the documents across my desk, letting them see the evidence.
"Human trafficking. Not just facilitating it.
Participating. He keeps a private collection of women at a property outside the city.
Rotates them every few months. The ones who survive get sold to overseas buyers through an underground organization known as Society 69.
The ones who don't..." I tap a coroner's report.
"End up in shallow graves in Wisconsin or buried at sea. "
Massimo's face goes pale. "Jesus fucking Christ. They throw them off ships?"
I roll a heavy shoulder. “My reports say sometimes they are still breathing when they are tossed overboard.”
“Mother fuckers!” Kon, slams a fist down on the edge of my desk before belting out a string of Russian slurs and curses.
"It gets thicker and deeper. He's been laundering money through children's charities.
Orphanages, specifically. Takes donations meant for kids and funnels them into his operations.
Three of those orphanages have reported missing children in the past two years.
No bodies. No leads. Just gone." I let that sink in.
"And his treatment of his own people makes the Castellanos look like saints.
And these are the people Enzo is trying to forge an alliance with. Imagine what they'd build together.”
The men fall silent as they mentally move that puzzle piece into place.
“What a sick fuck.” Rowan pushes out of his chair and leafs through the documents and images. “And he was going to hand his daughter over to a politician's son to lock down political cover while running all of this underneath.”
I nod. “Last month, one of his lieutenants questioned a shipment route. Enzo had the man's wife and daughter brought to his office. Made the lieutenant watch while his men—"
"Enough." Rafael holds up a hand, his jaw tight with barely contained fury. "We understand what kind of man we're dealing with."
"The territory he controls is strategically valuable.
He's moving in, like we suspected, and trying to strong-arm his way through our territory.
Ports, shipping routes, three major distribution networks.
If we take him off the board, we take back what is ours and absorb his infrastructure.
We also eliminate a cancer from this city in one move.
" I gather the documents back into the folder.
"But we need more. His inner circle is loyal out of fear, not respect.
We need more people willing to flip. Someone with access to the real evidence that will let us move without starting a war with his allies.
My guy inside is feeding me verbal intel, we need solid evidence. "
"The Castellano alliance," Kon says quietly. "If he secures that before we move—"
"Then taking him out becomes significantly more complicated. He doesn’t really need Ilona.
That was just an easy way to tie them together.
There are other ways," I add. "Which is why we need to accelerate our timeline.
My informant says he's gathering strength, turning people against us, positioning himself for something big.
He's not going to wait forever to make his move against us for taking Ilona either. "
Rafael rests on the arm of a nearby chair, processing all the details. "What do you need from us?"
"Eyes on his properties. Pressure on his lieutenants. And someone needs to reach out to the Castellanos before Enzo's offer becomes too attractive to refuse. Let’s pull in the men of Genesis. They carry even more weight."
I look at each of my brothers in turn. "Enzo Marchetti is a dead man walking. He just doesn't know it yet. But we do this smart. We do this clean. And when he falls, no one mourns him."
Rafael rises, his presence commanding even in motion. "Is this all you have?” He points at the files on my desk.
“No. I have three times this on my computer.”
“Okay, send it to me so I can get a few people working on it.”
“Harlon will be very curious to know what Enzo’s been up to in our combined territory,” I add.
Rafael nods. “We have work to do. Kon, take point on the Castellano situation with Luca. Drake, squeeze his financial networks. Massimo and Rowan, I want surveillance on every property we've identified."
"One more thing," Rafael adds. "The Harrison Foundation charity gala is tonight. Governor Harrison and his wife are hosting. Enzo will be there."
The name Harrison lands like a spark on dry tinder. The same Governor Harrison whose son Bradley was supposed to marry my wife.
"Good," I say. "Then we attend. All of us. With our wives."
Drake catches my meaning first. "You want Enzo to see Ilona on your arm. In front of the same family he tried to sell her to."
"I want Enzo to see exactly what he lost and exactly who took it from him.
" I lean back in my chair and let the smile form slowly.
"And I want the Harrisons to see that the woman they tried to buy is no longer for sale.
Let them all watch Ilona Valentina walk into that ballroom and know that every alliance Enzo promised them died the moment she took my name. "
Rafael considers this for a beat, then nods. "Strategic. Visible. Sends a message without firing a shot." He glances around the room. "Dress sharp tonight, gentlemen. We're making a statement."
Rafael pauses at the door, looking back at me. "And Luca? After you send the file to me, I suggest you delete everything you have on your new bride. Whatever you needed it for, you don't need it anymore."
I respect Rafael. More than almost any man alive. But he's wrong on this one.
Ilona's file isn't a standalone document I can drag to the trash and forget.
It's woven into the larger Marchetti dossier, cross-referenced with her father's operations, his bodyguards' rotations, the gaps in Enzo's security that her patterns revealed.
Every piece of intelligence connects to another piece.
Pull one thread and the whole web loses structural integrity.
Months of work compromised because of sentiment.
I don't make operational decisions based on guilt. That's how men get killed.
Beyond that, the file sits on a secured server behind three layers of encryption that I built myself. Ilona has no reason to access my classified systems and no way to breach them even if she tried. The risk of her stumbling across it is so close to zero it doesn't register on my radar.
I've managed secrets far more dangerous than this one for far longer. Containing information is what I do. It's what makes me valuable to this brotherhood.
Rafael sees a husband who should destroy evidence of his sins. I see an intelligence officer who knows better than to gut an active operation because his conscience stings.
"I will."
The words come out smooth, certain, the tone of a man who has already weighed the options and made his call. Rafael nods and turns for the door.
I've never lied to Rafael. Not in seven years of brotherhood. The lie tastes like rust on my tongue, and I tell myself it'll be the last one.
I don't feel a shred of doubt.
That should concern me more than it does.
The brothers move toward the door, their assignments clear, their focus already shifting to the war ahead. But Rafael pauses at the threshold.
"Wait. The wishes still need reviewing before we scatter. Damaris dropped them off earlier."
He's right. Even in the middle of planning a war, the work of the Syndicate continues. People still need help. Wishes still need granting.
Rafael settles back into his chair. The others return to their seats with varying degrees of reluctance. I reach for the stack of red envelopes on the corner of my desk, the paper smooth and cool beneath my fingertips.
The first few wishes are routine. Money troubles from a single mother drowning in medical debt.
A sick grandmother whose family begs for experimental treatment.
A woman seeking protection from an abusive ex, her handwriting shaky with fear.
We sort through them with practiced efficiency, assigning each to the brother best suited to grant it.
Kon takes the protection case. Rafael claims the medical debt.
Massimo volunteers for the grandmother, his voice gruff with emotion he tries to hide.
Then my fingers touch an envelope that makes my blood freeze in my veins.
The handwriting on the front is familiar.