Chapter 42

forty-two

DIMITRI

Cool air carrying the faint scent of brine swirled around Marco and me as we walked the perimeter of the warehouse that had seen better days. The old brick was cracked and crumbling in places and the windows hadn’t had a good wash in at least fifty years, but the bones were decent, and it had always served us well as a base of operation. Sitting sentinel along the river at the top end of the port, it had been the perfect location to house the various cargo that came off the ships that traveled upriver to Silver City.

In its heyday, the place had a certain rough-hewn charm; now it just looked tired. Still, there was a kind of comfort in its familiarity, like an old soldier who’d survived a hundred battles and was ready for another one.

“We’ll need to reinforce the doors,” Marco said, kicking at a rusted metal frame. “Maybe set up some barricades inside. If they rush us, we’ve gotta be able to slow ‘em down.”

I nodded, my mind split between the task at hand and my Omega back at home.

“D,” my brother barked in exasperation. I didn’t blame him. I’d been damned distractible all morning, and that was unfortunate, because this little mission we were on had to take priority.

“Fuck. Sorry.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, willing myself to focus. “We can station snipers at the front and back windows. I also want gunmen on the ship. They need to be ready and waiting when it pulls up to the dock.”

Thankfully, my brothers had been on board with my plan and had helped me spread word about a large, fake shipment of arms and high-value contraband that would supposedly arrive in two days’ time. The delivery was designed to look like a crucial part of our operations—something the Valentinos would view as too good to pass up.

After a year of undermining our deliveries, stealing shit, and causing problems in their attempt to take us down, I was of the distinct opinion that Rocco and Vincent would show their smarmy faces, especially since our feud had grown personal the day we stole Kit from them.

An hour later and we had a laundry list of fixes and improvements that were needed to insure our success. And secure our Omega her freedom once and for all.

Unable to resist any longer, I swiped my thumb across the screen, navigating to our security app and opening it. The feed from the penthouse flickered to life, showing the spacious living room.

Kitania sat cross-legged on the plush rug in front of the coffee table, playing cards fanned in her grip as she faced off against both Gio and Tommy in a game of what I assumed was poker. Her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth, and her eyes were narrowed adorably as she contemplated her next move. Which I was sure told my brothers all they needed to know about her cards. Still, they hemmed and hawed over raising the stakes, meeting her call, ultimately letting her win the hand. And most likely every other hand as well.

Kit did a happy wiggle, dancing where she sat before leaning over and scooping all the chips out of the middle of the table, adding them to her growing hoard like a satisfied little dragon.

I smirked and shook my head at how one adorable Omega could bring four powerful Alphas to heel. She had us wrapped around her pinkie finger, and none of us were the least bit upset about it.

Marco peered over my shoulder. “She okay?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. She’s… she’s doing great.”

Together, we watched her for another few minutes, smiling at her happiness. It was addicting to see her so damn joyous. To witness the light that emanated from her.

How far she’d come…

When we’d first found her, there’d been nothing but a deep, resonant sadness in those pretty blue eyes of hers. But now, they were full of warmth and pure fucking sunshine.

It renewed my determination to eliminate the threats against her. Against all of us. My Kitten deserved a future, and damn if I didn’t want the vision that had been forming in my mind since we’d rescued her: a life where we were united and happy, ruling the empire my father and my father’s fathers had built, raising the next generation—our own little family.

Reluctantly, we clicked off the feed, then stood quietly in the middle of the warehouse, each in our own heads. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. I could feel Marco’s restlessness mirroring my own. Being away from Kit, even for a few hours, created an itch under my skin I was powerless to scratch.

I couldn’t put into words the intense draw that came with finding my scent match. Kit was my other half, the center of my universe, and all that mattered was that being apart felt wrong on a primal level.

But we had a job to do, a threat to eliminate, and until that was done, none of us would ever truly relax.

“At least she’s healing well,” I murmured, more to myself than to my brother. “But fuck, I hate being away from her.”

Marco nodded, and yet, his jaw clenched. “Yeah, me too. But it will be worthwhile if we can end this and rip every last Valentino apart piece by goddamn piece.”

I understood the feeling. The memory of that night—the crack of gunfire, Kit’s agonizing cry, the sickening bloom of red on her shirt—still haunted me. We’d come so close to losing her, just when we’d found her. The thought made me fucking sick.

Thankfully, our girl was a fighter. She’d pushed through the pain, followed every instruction from Doc. Her recovery thus far had been textbook, but I could see the slight wince when she moved too quickly and the way she favored her injured arm.

It left me feeling absolutely murderous. Which was why I’d finally pried myself away. Like Marco said—it was time to end this, to make the Valentinos pay for their sins. The sooner we took them out, the sooner we could move on with our lives and give our Omega the life she deserved.

“She’s really settling in, isn’t she?” Marco mused, lips tugging up on the side. “Making the place her own. It’s been nice.”

I couldn’t help but agree. In the weeks since we’d rescued Kit, she’d slowly but surely been putting her mark on our home. Soft throw blankets in rich jewel tones now draped over the backs of the sleek leather couches. Delicate potted orchids and succulents dotted the end tables and there were romance books on the shelves, each addition breathing life into the once sterile space. Her favorite mug, a whimsical thing with a sleeping kitten curled around the handle, now had a permanent place beside the espresso machine in the kitchen. And she’d adorned Beretta with a rhinestone encrusted collar that had his name engraved on a bone-shaped pendant.

Each small addition felt like a monumental, tangible sign Kit was beginning to consider our home her home, too.

“She asked me to grab some paint samples the other day,” I shared with a grin of my own. “Wants to add some vibrancy to the Omega suite.” Which currently had white walls, waiting for our woman’s touch.

Marco’s smile deepened. “We better start painting fast. I’m sure you’ve noticed her heat flares are coming more frequently. That’s probably why she’s nesting, putting her mark on our place. She could go into heat any day. And you know as soon as she does, none of us are gonna care if we’re in the middle of a home project. I don’t plan on letting her out of the nest, let alone off my cock once she’s—”

He cut off abruptly at the sound of the side door opening, announcing the visitor we’d been waiting for, but I chuckled under my breath, because I fully understood and agreed with his sentiment.

But he wasn’t wrong. Kit’s temperature spikes and the intensifying waves of her pheromones were becoming more frequent, and they were growing in strength. It wouldn’t be long now. Which was yet another reason to get this shit settled.

“Hello, boys.” My father wasted no time, his blunt demeanor cutting straight to the point. “I assume you didn’t call me down here for trivial matters. So, which one of you wants to tell me what’s going on?”

MARCO

Dimitri stood tall and looked his father in the eye. “I wanted to keep you informed. We’re setting up an ambush for the Valentinos.”

I braced for an explosion, knowing Emilio didn’t tolerate being told what to do by others, even his own sons.

“Good. No one makes a move against my family and lives.”

I released a sigh of relief, and I saw a miniscule amount of tension bleed from Dimitri’s shoulders as well. We’d both prepared to argue our point, but apparently we’d worried for nothing. Emilio was notorious for doing his best to keep business and family affairs as separate as possible, but the Valentinos had blurred that line, and it seemed we were all ready to make them pay.

“It’s obvious the Valentino’s plans for Kit changed on fight night.” I ran my hand through my hair, unable to stay still, needing some form of movement. “At first, they just wanted her back, but you should have seen the look on their faces when they learned she was our scent match.”

There’d been something deeper and far more calculating in Rocco’s eyes than I’d originally given him credit for. He was dangerous and volatile, a lethal mix of pissed off Alpha and slighted man.

“And the threats that asshole made about seeing her in pieces—” Dimitri added, barely able to get the words out past his growl.

I swallowed hard, doing my best to suppress my own snarl.

The moment Gio told me what that guy said, I wanted to wrap my own hands around the bastard’s throat and squeeze until the life bled out of him. I wasn’t typically the fighter in the pack, but no one threatened my Omega and lived to breathe another day.

Then the Valentinos had the absolute fuckin’ gall to shoot at my mate. To try and kill her.

Emilio paced, his loafers clicking against the old concrete floor, each step echoing off the high ceilings and brick walls. He paused and turned to Dimitri. “Speaking of, have you been able to get anything new out of your guest ?” he drawled, referring to the asshat we’d captured on fight night.

The man had been in our ‘care’ for over three weeks, and while we Italian’s usually prided ourselves on our hospitality, his stay had been less than comfortable, to put it mildly. Each visit, we hoped he’d break and reveal something useful, but so far all we’d gleaned was pretty generic stuff.

Dimitri absently ghosted his thumb over the freshest batch of scabs that littered his knuckles. “The man had nothing concrete to offer. Just ramblings of vague threats Rocco and Vincent have made regarding our Omega. “

“I can’t prove it, but I know they were one thousand percent behind the shooting at the theater. And since they failed, there’s no doubt the Valentinos will come for Kit again. And soon,” I practically growled, “Unfortunately, we’re not sure when they’ll attack next or what the fuck they’re planning. But it’s clear now that they want Kitania dead.”

“If they take out our mate, it’s only a matter of time until our grief eats us alive from the inside out,” Dimitri rasped. “Until we’re too distracted, too weak, too fucking devastated to protect our territory, our family.”

The picture my brother painted had a red haze edging my vision. I tapped my fingers on the outside of my thigh—partly because standing still felt impossible, but mostly because the motion was so routine, it helped calm me. It was familiar and rhythmic. Centering. Grounding.

I fought for my precarious control, promising myself my anger would be vindicated soon.

So fucking soon.

Emilio’s eyes flashed with fury. “That won’t happen. We’ll make sure we’re on guard. We protect our own, and Kitania is now as much a daughter to me as your sister is.”

That was the power of scent matches.

Emilio straightened, going into what I called his ‘boss mode.’ “Tell me more about this plan of yours.”

Dimitri laid it all out, detailing how we’d spread word about a fake shipment of illegal arms and high-end contraband worth millions of dollars to lure the Valentinos in.

If they stuck to their regular M.O., they’d come for it.

“This is one payload they won’t be able to resist,” D stated.

They’d been stealing shit from us for months, long before Kit upped their incentive to be complete dick holes. At first, it was about territory, and in a sense, it still was—except I’d never view Kit as ‘property’ that I owned. Regardless, they viewed her as theirs. They wanted her, and we had her. And there was no fucking way we were giving her up. Even if she wasn’t our Omega, we would’ve fought for her safety, but now the vendetta was personal.

Between the two of us, we explained how we’d plant men at every vantage point, how we planned to draw the Valentinos in and ambush them when they made a run for the goods that we’d stage inside the warehouse.

I shoved a hand through my hair, hoping against all hope that our plan worked. “When they make their move, we’ll be ready,” I vowed.

Thankfully, Emilio agreed we needed to level the playing field, draw them out of their territory. The docks made a perfect battlefield.

Emilio eyed us, and the weight of the look felt truly physical. With a single nod, he said, “You have my blessing.”

Air whooshed from my lungs. Given that he was still the boss, his approval was mandatory, and yet, I knew we would’ve fought back if he’d denied us. None of us wanted the transition of power amongst our family to be a tumultuous event.

“I’m proud to see you stepping up, taking charge. It does an old man’s heart some good to see you matched. Once this mess is sorted, I believe it’s time we all sat down for a long awaited discussion.”

I exchanged glances with Dimitri before he nodded. “Yes, sir.” He shook his father’s hand, and as we watched Emilio go, I clapped D on the back.

“Seems the future awaits, brother.”

“And none too soon. It’s time to end this,” he stated. “Once and for all.”