Page 104 of Dangerous Vows

We have to figure out a way to neutralize her father—cleanly, and without it blowing back on us. We can’t risk starting a war we can’t contain.

If not, we’ll start a goddamn chain reaction across the Mafia Universe. We need proof. Solid, irrefutable evidence that Stefano ordered the hit on me. Amara’s words are not enough.

Without undeniable proof, we’re walking on razor-thin ice in anocean where one wrong move means certain death. We’re criminals, sure, but we live by a code. We can’t make a move without it being justified, especially when it comes to murdering a made man or a Don.

And men like us don’t start a war unless we’re prepared to finish it.

To complicate this even more, we have to kill Miloš. That’s non-negotiable. He put his hand on my woman.

I dress casually, tugging on jeans and a thick pullover because today is the family meeting. Joseph drives me to the Borrelli mansion as the sun rises on the skyline, casting long shadows across the estate’s lawn.

I let myself into the mansion, my Berluti sneakers making no sound as I walk over the expensive tiled floor. The hallway ends at Matteo’s office. Like the true don he is, he’s already waiting in the war room with Renalto, Niccolò, and our black hat, and computer hacker extraordinaire, Julia.

Everyone is on edge when I walk in.

“Miloš is torching Moretti assets,” Matteo advises us, cutting straight to it. “Three Moretti-owned buildings lit up last night. Brooklyn. Red Hook. One in Jersey.”

“All of this is over Amara?” I ask.

“Or desperation to gain ground with a mission to dismantle an empire,” Renalto replies. “Maybe all the above.” He shrugs.

“Miloš is trying to smoke Stefano out,” Niccolò mutters. “There has to be something we’re overlooking. There has to be an angle we can use.” Niccoló is a boxer, and it’s strange how the strategy he uses in the ring can be applied in our war room. But he has a point.

I’m desperate for any shred of information that we can use to end this war quickly.

Julia pulls up a new feed on the big screen that sits over the huge TV in Matteo’s office. It’s grainy footage, but I can make out a dock and Feds.

“Wholly shit, is the FBI swarming a port in Queens?” Renalto asks.

“Your idea?” I ask her.

She smirks. “Maybe. Matteo gave the go-ahead.”

Matteo meets my eyes. “They know we’re on to them. And they’rescrambling. Have you ever seen a leader panic like this? I mean the Feds’ raid on containers has to hurt,” he smirks.

“No,” I mutter, before I turn to him. “Brother, I had no idea you could be so diabolical. You wear it well,” I joke, but I have nothing but admiration for my oldest brother. “What I’ve gleaned from the last few weeks is that Miloš is all ego and no patience. He’s irrational and emotional. He thinks fire is power. He’s a fool if he thinks he can win a war without playing the long game. To me, Stefano appears to be thinking ahead. Stefano promised his daughter to Miloš to appease him. She was to marry Vukan, his brother, and solidify an alliance. Amara ran and hid, thinking she could stop it. I unwittingly dipped my dick into the situation and now we’re on the wrong side of a soured deal.” My sardonic voice gives a praise-worthy recap, bringing us right up to the meeting of the minds we’re hashing out today.

“The war is escalating. They’re lashing out and drawing blood where they can, but let’s face facts, it’s a takedown,” Renalto says cryptically.

Matteo takes a sip of his drink, eyes narrowing. “Good. Let Petrovic burn Moretti’s empire down while we find a way to cripple them both.” He runs his hand over the stubble on his face.

I never noticed his salt and pepper hair before today, and it dawns on me that running the empire has aged him. “No one can fight two wars at the same time and expect to win. Miloš Petrovic is committing suicide. It’s as if hewants to destroy the city,” I add thoughtfully.

“Maybe he’s afraid he’ll lose. I mean, if his word wasn’t honored, he’s a target that has to be taken off the chessboard, either by his men, or others,” Niccoló says. “And fear makes men reckless. We can use that.” He stands and paces the floor as we all mull the situation over.

“They’re trying to make us react,” Matteo corrects, leaning forward. His dark mahogany desk is fitting for the man who walks both sides of the law. “And they’re losing product fast enough to get sloppy. Now, they’re burning our buildings because it’s the only play they have left,” Matteo adds. “But it hurts.”

“The only issue is that we can’t fight two wars either,” I say, recapping our conundrum.

“We’re hitting their import routes, squeezing their cash flow. No one will refute the fact that we give as good as we get,” Matteo says, leaning back in his stately leather chair.

“We’re close to something,” Julia says. “I’m watching Vukan’s communications. He’s becoming more active—more aggressive. He might be the key to getting to Miloš. I think he’s pissed at his brother. I mean, if his brother burns everything to the ground, he has to start over.”

“That’s great. Maybe we can open a channel,” I say hopefully.

“Can we use him?” Renalto asks, suddenly coming alive even though he’s not a morning person. “Maybe we can turn him against his brother.”

It’s a brilliant idea. I, for one, am for anything that might end the war in our favor.

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