Page 96 of Twisted Embrace

I was sick to death of being in Russian crosshairs. While I valued D’Artagnan’s insistence that we remain cautious in determining if an all-out war was necessary, the events of the last two weeks were a clear indication that our prudence had been seen as a sign of weakness.

No longer.

The pain of not being able to reach Joy and Lucia, or even one of my men weighed heavily on my mind. In the world of cellphones and towers spread all throughout Italy, the concept they’d holed up in a location without reception was ridiculous in my mind.

Unless they were already dead.

I’d made contact to the other Dons, laying out my plan of action.

“Il tempo dell’esitazione è finito. Prepara i tuoi soldati. Seguiranno il mio comando. Non ci saranno domande. È chiaro?”

My command was not to be denied. Period. The time of hesitation is done. Have your soldiers ready. They will follow my command. There will be no question. Is that clear?

Both Don Rizzo and Don Caldone responded almost immediately. Antonio Romano was still in shock given his father’s murder, his advancement to the throne remaining a difficult moment. I waited until my proposal sank in, my last moment of patience allowed.

“Fine,” Don Romano hissed between clenched teeth. “They will pay for slaughtering my father.”

“As they should,” I told him. “We will avenge your father’s death.”

Given the attacks on their compounds, they’d both reached the end of their patience. I stood in the middle of a conference room I’d sequestered inside the hospital, the administrative staff given no choice. This was a temporary war room, filled with Mattia and two dozen of our soldiers, several more watching over the entrance to the surgery unit where Dar was currently being worked on.

We’d heard few details regarding his condition other than the bullet had almost severed a major artery when slicing into his lung. He had a fifty/fifty chance of making it.

That wasn’t acceptable.

“What do you propose?” Don Rizzo asked.

“Use every informant you have. Hunt down where the Russian soldiers are camping out. Then we strike. The plan is to eliminate every single one of them.” My answer was succinct. What I didn’t know was whether Grigori had bothered entering the country or was sitting on his perch in Moscow, watching the events unfold.

“And what about the Petrovs in New York?” Romano asked.

I smirked before answering. “It would seem our brethren from the Italian mafia in New York are sick of being threatened. They are currently exposing and eliminating Bratva members as we speak.”

“You are ruthless,” Don Rizzo said, half laughing.

“I was taught to be, Don. It’s required in our business.”

Whether or not he liked my answer I couldn’t care less about. I noticed Mattia was watching me carefully, pacing the floor of the hospital the same way I’d done on the plane.

“I want to know if Grigori or his son is seen inside the Italian borders. Do not approach. I will handle the fucker myself,” I instructed.

“We will follow your lead, Don Lazarro. But you will protect our territories.” Don Caldone was a man of few words. In his prime, he’d been considered as merciless as the Russians. Age and circumstances had softened him.

“You have my pledge to do so.” I meant what I said. This time, politics needed to play a part in every decision made. That would ensure the future of our people and our culture.

Which had suddenly become very important to me.

“Then let’s erase the bastards once and for all,” Don Rizzo snorted. “My men are ready. Say the word.”

“Will do. Keep your phone lines open.” I ended the call, holding the phone to my head. The stress was taking a toll, the rage increasing. If I didn’t gain control, I’d lose sight of what was most important.

Saving the woman I loved as well as my sister.

“Are you certain this is going to work?” Mattia asked so none of the soldiers could hear him questioning my authority.

I lifted my head, glancing around the room. The men were all looking to me for guidance, something I’d wanted my entire life. Now I wasn’t so certain. “It has to, brother. It has to.”

As a surgeon burst through the doors, I immediately headed toward him. “D’Artagnan?”

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