Page 44 of The Mafia Bloodline
Caesar wanted a war. He’d get one, but not before I made damn sure that when the world burned, Runa would still be standing in the ashes beside me.
The door closed softly behind me, and the quiet of my room gave way to the echoing tension that hung heavy over the mansion. The corridors were lined with men, our guards, changelings, vampires that were all wearing the same grim expression. They knew what tonight meant.
It wasn’t a hunt anymore. It was retaliation.
The moment I stepped into the war room, the energy shifted. Every one of my brothers was already there. Roman stood at the head of the table, posture rigid, his jaw tight with control, he was barely holding onto his control. Lucien had maps and files spread in front of him, methodical even in the chaos. Draugr loomed near the window like a wall of stone, his arms crossed, his eyes dark and unreadable. Viking, restless as always, was pacing behind the table, his expression a storm waiting to break.
The massive oak table that once symbolized unity now looked like an altar for blood.
“About time,” Viking muttered as I walked in. “Thought maybe your mate talked some sense into you and you decided to stay home.”
I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut. “Keep talking, and I’ll rip that grin off your face.”
He smirked, unbothered. “There he is. I was starting to miss that charming personality of yours.”
“Enough,” Roman snapped, his voice a whip of authority that silenced the room immediately. “We’re not here to trade insults.”
Viking muttered something under his breath, but stopped pacing.
Roman’s gaze cut to me, steel meeting steel. “You’ve seen the latest report?”
I nodded. “Caesar’s been moving. He’s not hiding anymore.”
Lucien slid a folder across the table toward me, his expression grim. “He’s set up operations in the old dockyard district. We intercepted communication from one of his handlers. He’s running product through the same channels the demons use.”
“Product?” I frowned.
“Bodies,” Draugr said, his deep voice like thunder. “Half of them human. Half changelings. Some already infected with demon venom.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “So, he’s working directly with them now.”
“Looks that way,” Lucien confirmed. “He’s offering human and changeling vessels to the demons in exchange for access to their black-market trade routes. Arms. Blood. Power.”
Viking slammed his hand against the table. “He’s a fucking Dragic. Our blood. How dare he…”
Roman cut him off. “He stopped being one of us the day he sold out our kind for coin and cowardice.”
The fury in the room crackled like lightning. The air itself felt heavy, dense with something primal.
I leaned forward, my voice low, even. “So, we end it tomorrow night.”
Roman’s gaze flicked to me. “You’re suggesting we move without confirmation of his full network?”
“I’m suggesting,” I growled, “that every day we wait, he kills more of our people. He sends demons into our cities, poisons our allies, and we wait? No. Tomorrow, we go. We end this before he can strike again.”
Draugr nodded once, slow and deliberate. “He’s right.”
Lucien looked between us, jaw tightening. “If we do this, we do it clean. We hit hard, no warning. We can’t afford another trap.”
“I’ll take point,” I said immediately.
“No.” Roman’s voice cut through mine like a blade.
My head snapped toward him. “You don’t get to pull rank on this one, brother.”
His eyes narrowed. “I do when your mate’s inside this mansion counting on you to come home.”
That hit harder than any punch could’ve.
