Leila scoffed, but her fingers stirred restlessly on her lap. "Brave words for a man who has his world crumbling around him."
Makros exhaled sharply, a soft laugh—if it could even be called that.
"I will fix this," he said, his voice cutting with finality. And then, after a pause, he added, "And when I do, you will regret thinking I could ever fall."
Leila held his gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she settled back into the seat, her smirk widening.
"You might rise above everything, Makros." Her voice was hardly audible. "But you're never getting up from what you did to my family. I will be the weight that crushes you eventually."
Meanwhile, in Naples...
Aleksei settled into the rich leather chair, surveying the beautiful room. The burden of having decided to remain in Naples sat heavily on his chest, but he was certain that it was the only way he could keep a low profile for the time being.
Don Vincenzo, the actual head of the Naples operation, reclined in his chair, twirling his glass of red wine in a slow circle. His gaze never left Aleksei as he spoke.
"Makros is too arrogant," Vincenzo said, his fingers tapping on the rim of his glass. "He believes the Russians have huge respect for him because he's a Crete. But we both know that's not even close to being true. Makros is not his father, the Russians would eat him up. That is if we don't get to him first."
Aleksei did not say a word, his head spinning. Makros had been his boss, but then he deserted with the Russians, and now he ended up in Naples. He had no regrets. He learned on the streets that loyalty was not a given—it was a commodity. And it was often sold to the highest bidder.
Vincenzo pushed forward, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. "You and I, Aleksei, we're not so different. We both know what it's like to play both sides. But while your boss is occupied, I'm making arrangements for the next step forward."
Aleksei tensed slightly, but said nothing.
"You've been running with Makros long enough," Vincenzo continued. "If you're clever, you'll drop him now. The Russians will most definitely come after you. They'll consider you a traitor as easily as they consider him one."
Aleksei's eyes narrowed. He couldn't afford to show his hand too soon. His loyalty to Makros, strained as it was, wasn't something to be cast aside so easily. But he knew Vincenzo was right. The Russians, once they have him, won't stop until they've had their pound of flesh.
"And you think I'll just walk away?" Aleksei demanded, his voice low but even. "What do you have that I need?"
Vincenzo's grin broadened. "Yes, I have the same thing that everyone else desires, the power to dominate this city, and more. And if you help me deal with Makros, I'll make sure the Russians never trouble you again. You'll have a free rein in Naples, Aleksei. And when the dust has settled, you'll be something more than a second-in-command."
Aleksei considered the proposition. Betraying Makros, staying behind—was tempting.
"You want me to help you kill Makros?" Aleksei's tone was icy. "Even I know my boundaries. He has an army surrounding him. The Russians are partially still loyal to him. The Cretes army is enormous and powerful."
Vincenzo chuckled. "You think too small. I’ve already made my moves. I’ve been making sure the Russians are backing away from the partnership because of Makros' failures. Meanwhile, Makros thinks he’s securing his position, but he’s too blinded by pride to see the cracks forming around him. I’m already putting pieces in place to bring him down from the inside."
Aleksei narrowed his eyes. "What pieces?"
"The right contacts," Vincenzo replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've been planting seeds in his inner circle. I have individuals inside, individuals who'll get to him before the Russians ever do. When the attack begins, Makros won't even know what struck him."
Aleksei remained quiet.
Vincenzo stood, walking slowly around the room, enjoying the power he held over Aleksei. "You can still make the right decision, Aleksei. Help me, and you’ll have your own empire in Naples. Stand with Makros, and you’ll be nothing more than a casualty of this war. Your choice."
Aleksei's hold on the armrest hardened. Outside, he had decided nothing but within, he had decided whom to give his loyalty to.
On the Cretes estate, a decision was made.
"We set out at dawn," Makros ordered.
Dragon stiffened. "Just the two of us?"
Makros didn't blink. "Who do you think we are?"
Leila scowled at him irritably. This man was always so arrogant, wasn't he?
"You're walking into a trap," she warned him.
