Antonio frowns at me and points. “How do we know your family isn’t behind this?”
“How do I know yours isn’t, and you killed your own men to make it look like it was us?”
Antonio holds my gaze, and finally nods. “The deal between your father and mine’s been in the works for six months. I don’t think either of them would risk it over some power play.”
“No, but you might.” My words slice through the air.
He chuckles, low and easy, then glances at his sister. “Sophia, tell Raphael how much I love working for our father.”
“You hate it,” she says, her voice is firm. “You don’t want to run the family.”
I can’t help it—I laugh. “You expect me to believe that you actually shared this with your sister? You’re like me. Groomed to take over from the day you were born.” I pick up the Glock and then lean against his desk.
Antonio smirks, then moves deliberately around his desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out two Glocks, laying them on the surface. “Exactly. It’s why the deal happened. Neither I nor my brothers want the crown. Papa faced a choice: hand the family over to some loyal soldier who isn’t blood—or merge with the Costas and put you in charge.”
I frown, shaking my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
He grunts, checking the weapons, the sounds are sharp in the quiet room. “It’s how Papa saves face. Territories stay the same, your people stay in place, ours stay in place. Only now, instead of butting heads, we work together.”
I cock my head, studying him. “Why don’t you want it?”
“Angelica,” Sophia murmurs, almost reverently, and Antonio’s expression tightens.
“Yeah,” he says, voice rougher now. “She wants no part of the family business. She agreed to marry me, but she won’t let me put a target on her back—or on our kids. No children growing up in this house. Not like us.”
I tilt my head, incredulous. “You’re giving it all up… for a woman?”
Antonio smiles, slow and knowing, like he’s been waiting for this. “She’s not just any woman.”
I let that hang, studying him.
The room feels smaller somehow, the tension thick, and Sophia says, “For some people, love’s important.”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking to Sophia and then back to me. “For some, it’s the only thing that matters.”
“Who then?” I ask.
Antonio tilts his head back, eyes on the ceiling. His fingers tighten around the triggers of the Glocks in each hand. Slowly, he lowers them, his gaze locking onto mine. “Have you had any run-ins with the Russians?”
I nod, my jaw tight. “Yeah. They’ve been moving in, pushing their tainted shit to some of our dealers.”
“Tainted?” Sophia’s asks.
“Carfentanil,” I say flatly, letting the weight of the word hang in the air. “They’re giving it away to a few of our dealers. Free. The catch? It’ll kill you. Hell, even a little on your skin could do it. They’re trying to push us out. Dealers and clients are dropping like flies. Makes the cops hungry for a bust, thinking it’s us.”
Sophia’s eyes widen, and she glances at Antonio. “Is that… our problem too?”
He nods, the movement slow, deliberate. “They don’t care whose turf it is. Death sells fear. Fear sells power. And they’re trying to scare everyone into submission. We either stop them, or we get buried under it.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms to the desk. “And you think they’ll hit us directly?”
Antonio shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. But they’re smart—they know the cops are looking at us. Our deaths would just make them targets. The smart move is chaos first, then control.”
“You mean they start shooting, we all start shooting at each other, and the only ones left are the Russians so they can take over?” I spit the words out, tasting the bitterness.
Sophia shifts, tugging nervously at her sleeve. “So… what do we do?”
I glance at her, then back at Antonio. “We hit them before they hit us. Hard. Make sure everyone knows the Costas and the Chavez families aren’t soft.”
