Page 25 of Arrow

“If I were marrying the daughter of Giovanni Virelli, I’d be distracted too.” Orion smirked. “She’s a walking weapon.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

Orion, Atlas, and I had been friends since we were boys. I stared at the subtle smirk on Orion’s face and felt my jaw tighten.

“A walking weapon who’ll soon be defused,” I replied, though the words felt hollow even to me.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, revealing Atlas waiting for us in the penthouse foyer.

“Nice to see you arriving with all your body parts,” he teased. “How was your lunch date with the Virelli girl?”

I poured myself a whiskey from the crystal decanter, swirling the amber liquid before taking a measured sip. “She’s spirited.”

Atlas snorted. “That’s one word for it. I heard she spit in your face at breakfast, then grabbed you by the balls at Cartier.”

“Water, not spit,” I corrected, remembering the defiance blazing in Harlowe’s eyes. “And she chose the ugliest fucking ring in the store.”

Atlas laughed, the sound rumbling through the penthouse. “I can’t fucking wait to see her in action at the wedding. She’ll probably stab you with the cake knife.”

“She’ll try,” I said, though the idea didn’t displease me as much as it should have. Harlowe’s resistance was becoming the most interesting part of my day.

Orion sprawled across the leather sofa, his long legs stretched out before him. “The Virellis are falling apart. Giovanni’s losing his grip on the Brighton territories. Word is the Albanians are moving in, picking off his lieutenants one by one.”

“Which is why we’re here,” Atlas added, his expression turning serious. “The Albanians hit one of our warehouses last night. Three men dead.”

I set my glass down, all thoughts of Harlowe temporarily pushed aside. “Whose authorization?”

“Looks like Besnik Dervishi,” Atlas said, sliding a folder across the glass table. “His signature move—tongues cut out.”

I flipped through the crime scene photos, studying the mutilated bodies of my men with detached precision. “They’re testing us. Seeing if we’re distracted by the wedding preparations.”

“Or they think the Virelli alliance makes us vulnerable,” Orion suggested. “That we’ve gone soft.”

I closed the folder. “Then we need to correct that misconception.”

Atlas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t care what they think. I only care that these bottom dwellers are fucking with my city and my men. I’m getting tired of these fuckers making power plays on what belongs to me.”

He was right. The Albanians were encroaching on territory that had been firmly under Romanov control and, in turn, supporting Atlas, the Kingpin of The Underground, for years. Their boldness was a direct challenge to his authority and to my family, and one that couldn’t go unanswered.

“So, what’s the plan?” Orion asked, reaching for the whiskey decanter.

“We send a message,” I said, my mind already calculating the most effective response. “Not just to Besnik, but to anyone who thinks the Romanov-Virelli union means weakness.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—which of Besnik’s operations to hit, how many men to send, what kind of statement to leave behind. I found myself only half-listening, though, my thoughts drifting back to Harlowe. The way her body had tensed when she’d sat on my lap. The flicker of jealousy she’d tried to mask when Katerina approached. The stubborn tilt of her chin as she’d chosen that hideous ring.

“Arrow?” Atlas’s voice cut through my distraction. “Are you with us?”

I refocused. “Hit his processing facility in Red Hook. Take his product, burn the building, leave his lieutenant’s head on Besnik’s doorstep.” I finished my whiskey in one swallow. “Make it clean. Make it loud.”

Orion nodded, already pulling out his phone to make arrangements. “Fuck yes, we get to kill some motherfuckers tonight!”

“What about the Virelli girl?” Atlas asked, giving me a pointed look. “Any issues there we need to handle?”

I shook my head. “She’s mine to deal with.”

“Better you than me.” Orion laughed. “I’d rather face Besnik’s entire crew than try to tame that wildcat.”

The meeting wrapped up, plans solidified for tonight’s message to the Albanians. As I stood to leave, Atlas caught my arm.