Page 28 of The Disputed Legacy
Their soldiers versus our spies.
One of their leaders against one of the Ivanovs.
With violence and no mercy, we settled every score. They accumulated in this damn war.
This past week, when they ramped up their attacks and diversified their reign of trouble, we lost more men than what was acceptable. Every single Ivanov death was a hard hit.
We were a tight group, one of the closest-knit organizations. When someone called us a family, it was a concept that we took to heart. Each loyal member belonged here with us. To be an Ivanov was to be a relative. We didn’t foster a workplace. We weren’t a loose organization on paper.
We were afamily, down to the truest sense of the word, all of us loyal to the death.
That was why I couldn’t stem this raging anger that consumed me after the latest hit.
A couple of spies had been killed in a drive-by, and the Romanos were clearly, without question, at fault. Any timesomeone passed on word that they were gloating about taking out a couple of our best spies, I experienced a rabid need to kill.
It was a senseless episode of violence since those spies had been focusing on an investigation against the Cartel, not the Romanos. Even worse, the Romano fuckers had to carry out their shooting near a civilian area.
The cops had gotten involved, something none of us ever welcomed. While it was bound to happen from time to time, it was an unspoken code, an implication, that all the crime families would go to any extreme to rebuff, avoid, and deny any law enforcement issues. They police the civilians, the ordinary members of society. And we would police and govern as we saw fit in our world.
What stood out to me was that the Romanos hadn’t seemed to care about risking attention from the NYPD.
Hugo and I stood at the back of the church, present for the funeral of one of the spies we’d just lost. I represented Maxim in this capacity, and I took this duty seriously.
Any man who would die for the family would be honored. As I looked again at the front pew and witnessed the spy’s aging wife crying as she clutched and held her teenaged son, now fatherless, I hardened my heart a little more. Empathy was fine. Sympathy wasn’t a challenge. But letting myself get too soft couldn’t happen. I would never be as dark of a soul as Damon was, but this sinister malice that brewed within me wouldn’t cease. I had to fight back on behalf of this young boy who’d lost his father, but I couldn’t be reckless about it, either.
“Do you think they did it on purpose?” Hugo asked in a somber whisper.
I tilted my head toward him slightly, giving him my full attention while I multitasked. I would remain solemn and respectful and pay my condolences here as a guest at the funeral,but I could listen to this smart man, too. “What do you mean?” His question had come out of nowhere.
“The Romanos being so bold like that to be close to where those cops were,” he said, tightening the knot on his tie as he gave a serious expression, unchanged among the cries and prayers in this room.
He was clearly thinking on the same wavelength as I was. It was almost too coincidental, those men driving by and shooting so near where the police had a DUI checkpoint stationed in that part of the city.
“It had to be part of their plan,” I replied in a whisper. Dominic Romano wanted to bring us down, not only by killing our men, but also by getting the cops to come after us. “For all the goodthatwould do,” I added.
We’d never made much of an effort to deal with the cops. There were a few higher-ups we could reliably bribe to leave us alone when we had to. After generations of holding and strengthening our power in the city, a role we’d perfected from my great-grandfather’s leadership, we didn’t need to mess with those peons often. The Ivanov name instilled fear and respect, and we didn’t have to put up with political crap. Investing in the right companies and associates across the globe had put us in a more powerful position that would make negotiating with the mayor or NYPD officials a waste of time.
Yet, Dominic Romano was showing his cards. By having his men nudge the cops—likely new and green ones who had yet to understand that no one messed with us—he was instigating a new brand of trouble I didn’t have patience for.
“We could have a crew look into which cops and lieutenants have been bought lately,” he said.
I nodded. “We could.” Gossip ran fast about who was who in the field of crooked policemen. “Or we could just take them all out and be done with them.”
Launching a full-scale eradication took time and planning, though. They were steps I preferred to rush through, but Maxim and my other brothers were counting on me to do this right. When I ordered the final end to the Romanos, I wanted it to be a truly final instruction, such that no one would pop up later and bother us.
We’d just concentrated our forces on ending the Kozlov name, and that transition of lingering assets and power was still going on as Dominic absorbed it all.
Sooner or later…
The Romano Family would have no means to threaten us again.
After the funeral was concluded, another high-ranking soldier Nik and Damon often used as their second-in-command, John, came to meet with me and Hugo outside the church.
“We’ve got a tip on the shooters’ location,” he said.
I shared one stern glance with Hugo and nodded. “Lead the way.”
John’s intel was on point, and we ended up ambushing two of the three men we’d identified as the shooters. Instead of killing them too quickly, we took our time to record it and let it be a message to Dominic or any other lower-ranking bosses and leaders within the Romano circus.
