Page 55 of Fallen Rook

“Same.” Achilles flicked his thumb ring distractedly.

The three of us exchanged looks. Alex, the pakhan, had taken it upon himself to use our territory without permission. That was abominable and punishable by death.

“This is…bold,” I said after a pause.

“The Russians are moving fast after Vello’s death.” Achilles sucked his teeth. “First Jeremie sampling the don’s wife, now this.”

“He’s not sampling my wife,” Luca said tersely.

“Sure, buddy. They’re probably playing a nail-bitingly suspenseful game of Twister in that big-ass mansion. That’s all.”

Christ, I thought with Vello dead, things would get easier. Evidently, Luca and Achilles were in the mood for some familial bloodshedding.

“What’s the timeline on that shipment?” I stirred them back to the subject.

“She told Federico a few weeks.” Luca worked his tight jaw. “Could be three. Could be eight. The girlfriend didn’t press for specifics so as not to raise suspicion, but Rico’s on her ass.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t they ask first?” I murmured around an unlit cigarette. “If they’re serious about making peace, which I assume they are, since they’re marrying off Katya.”

“Katya means jack shit,” Luca growled, a little too sharply. He’d been slowly losing grip on his carefully controlled facade, right before our eyes. Even though leading the Camorra was everything he’d ever wanted, ever since Sofia left their shared apartment, he hadn’t been the same. Normally, I would be the one to offer a shoulder to cry on. To give pep talks. To try to help. Only in recent weeks, I’d been too busy with my own shit.

Busy falling apart and succumbing to the darkness consuming me.

Busy taking steroids and lathering myself in Clobetasol propionate cream twice a day to deal with my breakouts, my body’s way of telling me I could try to bury my secrets, but they’d only end up burying me.

Busy kissing, nibbling, sucking, worshipping a certain FBI agent who wanted everybody in this room to be locked away for life.

“What do you mean?” Achilles narrowed his serpentlike eyes.

“Alex obviously thinks New York’s his new playground,” Luca ground out. “My wife, my territory, my port. Nothing’s sacred. Katya is a small sacrifice for him, a calculated bet; he knows Enzo would never hurt an innocent woman if shit goes south.”

“I told you Enzo’s sweet nature was gonna bite us in the ass.” Achilles scowled. “We should’ve given her to Tristan. He actually showed interest.”

“Tristan’s a literal bastard,” Luca clipped out. “Alex would never marry his blueblood sister to a man who isn’t even a real Ferrante.”

Originally, Dad wanted Achilles to marry Katya. He’d refused, choosing instead to go to war in order to win Tierney back. If Achilles would’ve married Katya, Alex wouldn’t be so cocksure. Achilles would slit her throat without a care in the world if the pakhan as much as fucked up his coffee order. Tristan, probably, too.

Me, I’d never hurt an innocent. No matter the circumstances.

“He thinks this marriage is his insurance we won’t retaliate any territorial disputes, or he plans to cancel it altogether after he takes over New York.” Luca’s chilling detachment didn’t waver. “Either way—he’s wrong.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked. It was Luca’s first major move as the don, and I selfishly hoped he’d assert his position by breaking off my engagement and declaring a full-blown war with the Bratva. I wasn’t worried about fighting or dying. But I was terrified of spending the rest of my life in a loveless marriage.

“For now, we act as if we don’t know anything. We don’t want to alert them, and the information the girlfriend tattled needs to be verified. We’ll find out the details on the shipment, and once it arrives, I’m going to jack the goods, seize every milligram of coke, and slaughter their soldiers,” Luca decreed. “Then I’m going to kill Jeremie and take my wife back.”

“You’ll start a war,” Achilles said sagely.

“Yes, but I’ll have a hell of an excuse,” Luca countered. “A territorial dispute. The Camorra will be fired up. A spark is all I need to set a fire in their hearts and minds.”

It didn’t escape me that Luca could’ve used Sofia and Jeremie as an justification to start a war, but hadn’t. He wanted it under wraps. To protect whatever was left of his crumbling, nonexistent marriage.

No one knew about the situation between Sofia and Jeremie. No one but us.

Achilles ran his palm across his face. “I’m never getting that honeymoon, am I?”

“It’s only a few weeks,” I said to placate the angry fucker. My distaste for his personality aside, I adored his wife. Baby girl had been through hell and back and certainly deserved her happily ever after, even if she got it with Satan himself.

“Tell Tierney to get comfortable in New York for the time being,” Luca said. “Shouldn’t take too long.”