212

212
Alaric’s POV
Work never ends in this life. The early morning hours, the quiet hum of the house, none of it gave me peace anymore. Not with everything we were juggling-alliances, threats, Alonso. It was like balancing on a knife’s edge, and if I tipped too far in any direction, the whole operation would come crashing down.
I stood by the window in my study, a glass of whiskey in hand. It was too early for this, but it was the only thing keeping me from grinding my teeth down to dust. Allesio had been quiet for the last ten minutes, flipping through reports at my desk. His silence was unusual, but I didn’t press. Not yet.
“You going to keep brooding, or are we going to talk about the shipment?” he finally asked, not looking up.
I sighed, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “We lost three trucks last week. Three. Do you understand how much that sets us back?”
“Of course, I do. I’m the one cleaning up your mess.”
I shot him a look, but he smirked like he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Annoying bastard.
“This isn’t just about the shipments,” I said, setting the glass down. “It’s about control. Losing them makes us look weak. Vulnerable. People start getting ideas.”
“People always have ideas,” he replied. “Doesn’t mean they’re stupid enough to act on them.”
“Alonso acted,” I snapped, the words sharper than I intended.
Allesio’s smirk disappeared, and his expression turned serious. “That’s different, and you know it. He’s not just testing the waters; he’s waging war. There’s no reasoning with someone like him.”
I nodded, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Which is why we can’t afford to lose anything else. We need to send a message.”
Allesio leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “You want to escalate?”
“No, I want to finish this.”
“Emilia won’t agree,” Allesio said cautiously but I shook my head, narrowing my eyes at him again.
“Honestly what Emilia wants isn’t up for debate right now. She’s letting her emotions cloud her reasoning and that’s just going to cost us more. He had the audacity to take my woman away from me. Whether he’s her father or not, I’m going to kill that bastard for that,” I swore.
The tension in the room thickened as we strategized. Alonso had been circling like a vulture for weeks, his latest moves were more personal than professional. The kidnapping, the claims about Emilia-it wasn’t just a power play. It was an insult and a direct challenge to my authority.
“We can hit one of his warehouses,” Allesio suggested, breaking the silence.
“And risk collateral damage?” I shook my head. “No. We need something cleaner, more precise. Something that makes him think twice about coming after us again.”
“Cleaner doesn’t always mean better,” Allesio argued. “Sometimes brute force is what gets the point across.”
“And sometimes brute force creates more enemies,” I countered. “We can’t afford that right now.”
He sighed, tapping his fingers against the desk. “Fine. What about cutting off his supply lines? Hit him where it hurts-his cash flow.”
It wasn’t a bad Idea, but it came with its own risks. Alonso was unpredictable, and cornering him could make him even more dangerous. Still, it was better than doing nothing.
“Start pulling intel on his suppliers,” I said finally. “I want names, locations, schedules-everything.”
Allesio nodded, already pulling out his phone to make calls.
The rest of the morning was spent in a blur of phone calls, meetings, and reviewing reports. Allesio and I moved like a well-oiled machine, years of experience allowing us to anticipate each other’s next move.
By the time lunch rolled around, we were no closer to a solution, but at least we had a plan. Sort of.
“I need a break,” Allesio muttered, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “This shit is giving me a headache.”
I chuckled, leaning against the desk. “You’re getting soft.”
“Soft? Me?” He snorted. “You’re the one pacing around here like a worried husband.”
My smile faded, and I shot him a warning look. “Careful.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’re not exactly yourself lately.”
“Can you blame me?” I asked, my voice low. “After everything that’s happened?”
“No, but you can’t let it get to you. This thing with Alonso-he’s trying to rattle you. Don’t let him.”
Easier said than done.
The afternoon brought more problems. A skimming operation in one of our casinos. A potential mole in our ranks. Once again. God. I couldn’t deal with that bullshit again.
And a meeting with a politician who wanted assurances about his upcoming campaign.
By the time we wrapped up, my head was pounding, and my patience was wearing thin.
“I’ll deal with the casino,” Allesio said as we walked out of the study. “You focus on Alonso.”
“I need you on Alonso, too,” I said. “We can’t afford to split our attention right now.”
He stopped, turning to face me. “Alaric, I can’t be everywhere at once. Neither can you. We need to start delegating, or this whole operation is going to implode.”
“I don’t trust anyone else to handle it,” I admitted.
“You’re going to have to,” he said firmly. “Unless you plan on working yourself into an early grave.”
I didn’t respond, because he wasn’t wrong. But trusting someone else with the responsibility of something as huge as this felt impossible. Allesio left the office and I sat alone, staring at the map of Alonso’s territory spread out before me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing something.
Allesio’s words echoed in my head. He was right-we couldn’t keep doing this alone. But finding someone trustworthy in this line of work was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Still, if we wanted to win, I’d have to take the risk.
“Time to make a move,” I muttered, reaching for my phone.
And just like that, I was setting my revenge in motion.