It ends only one way
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BASTION
A dozen men on their side, rifles hanging loose. Half a dozen on ours, watching, silent.
Business. That’s what it was supposed to be.
I was in a good mood. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d said that. Yesterday had been the first day I’d felt it. Last night the first night. Emilia between us. Finally breathing.
And now this.
The bastards robbed us. Skimmed cash. Lifted crates. Cut corners like they thought we wouldn’t notice. Rome was home. Luca and I made him. The city had run us all into the ground. We’d clawed it back. Earned one night of calm.
And now they were stealing it again.
Luca started. He didn’t raise it. Didn’t need to. He laid the numbers out, one by one. Territory lines, shipment counts, the places the product had bled off.
They tried to smile through it. Talk their way around it. Words like supply chains and shortages. Weak math and weaker excuses.
Luca kept them talking. He always did. He’d let a mantangle himself in words until he didn’t know which way was up.
Me—I watched their hands. Their eyes. The way they shifted in their seats when the truth pressed too close.
The smirk across the table landed wrong. He leaned back in his chair like he thought the room belonged to him.
That cracked my tolerance.
I leaned forward. Palms flat against the table.
“Enough.”
The smirk dropped, then tried to recover. “It’s just business, Crow.”
“No,” I said. “Business is numbers. This is theft.”
His eyes darted to Luca, like he might find softer ground. My brother gave him nothing. Just that steady cold stare.
“So what then?” the man asked. “You gonna burn every deal over a few crates?”
“Not every deal,” I said. “Just yours.”
I stood. The chair scraped back. My hand went to the gun at my side, not to draw—just to remind.
“You think we clawed this city back to lose it over scraps?” I asked. “You think after yesterday, after last night, I’m going to sit here and let you take from us?”
He opened his mouth. Wrong choice.
I moved before the first word landed.
The table flipped, crashing against his legs. Men shouted, rifles raised. Our side moved too, safeties clicking off.
But my focus was locked. My hand fisted in his collar, dragging him up and across the wreck of the table. His eyes went wide, the smirk gone.
“You don’t take from me,” I growled, low enough only he and Luca could hear. “Not when I’ve finally got something worth keeping.”
He stammered, tried to speak, and I slammed him into the concrete wall. His breath wheezed out.
