Chapter 154: The Empire

Mike reached across, gripped Dimitri’s shoulder.

"You’re not going to lose her. I won’t let it happen. Marco won’t let it happen. Hell, even Nonna’s running interference." He squeezed once, then released. "But you need to trust Eve more. Trust that she can handle the truth. Because if you keep lying to protect her, she’s going to figure it out. And then you’ll lose her trust. Which is worse than anything Antonio could do."

Dimitri knew Mike was right.

Knew that keeping Eve in the dark was a temporary solution that would eventually explode.

But right now, with everything about to accelerate, with danger closing in from multiple directions...

Right now, he needed her safe more than he needed her fully informed.

"I’ll tell her," Dimitri said. "When the time is right. When I have more pieces in place. When I can tell her the truth and also tell her I have plans to keep her protected."

"When’s that?"

"Two months. After I flip Marcelo Bellini and establish presence in Milan. After I have more infrastructure in place." Dimitri stood, suddenly exhausted. "Can you give me two months, Mike? Two months to get things positioned before I tell her everything?"

"It’s not my place to give or not give. She’s your girlfriend." Mike stood too. "But yeah. Two months. After that, you need to be honest with her. About all of it."

"Deal."

They stood in the kitchen, two men who’d been friends for over a decade, now brothers bound by blood and loyalty and love for the same woman.

"You should sleep," Mike said. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"I’m serious. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks. At some point, you’re going to crash. And you can’t afford to crash right now."

"I know." Dimitri moved toward the hallway. "You staying or heading out?"

"I’ll crash on the couch. Too late to Uber home and I’ve had too much scotch to drive." Mike smiled. "Plus, someone needs to keep an eye on things while you’re unconscious."

"Appreciated."

Dimitri made it halfway down the hall before Mike’s voice stopped him.

"Hey, Dimitri?"

He turned back.

"You’re going to win this. You know that, right? You’re smarter than Antonio, more strategic than Lorenzo, more ruthless than anyone they’ve got. You’re going to win."

"I hope so."

"I know so. Because you have something they don’t."

"What’s that?"

Mike smiled. "A reason worth winning for."

Dimitri felt something warm settle in his chest.

"Get some sleep, brother."

"You too."

Dimitri went back to the bedroom, stripped off his clothes, slipped back into bed.

Eve immediately curled into him, mumbling something incoherent.

"I’m here," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

She settled, her breathing evening out again.

Dimitri lay awake for another few minutes, Mike’s words echoing.

You have a reason worth winning for.

He looked at Eve sleeping peacefully beside him.

Yeah. He did.

And he’d burn the whole world down to keep her exactly like this.

***

The warehouse in Red Hook smelled like rust and fear.

Dimitri stood in the center of the concrete floor, hands in the pockets of his Tom Ford suit, watching his underbosses file in through the steel door. Tuesday morning, 9 AM sharp. Collection day.

They came in order of seniority.

First was Vincent "Vinnie" Calabrese, sixty-two years old, built like a bulldog, ran Dimitri’s drug distribution network across Brooklyn and Queens. He’d been with the organization since Dimitri’s grandfather’s time, had watched Dimitri grow from a boy into the Devil.

"Boss." Vinnie set a duffel bag on the table Marco had positioned in the center of the space. "Brooklyn numbers. Up eighteen percent from last month. Queens steady. The new supplier you brought in from Colombia, pure product, no complaints."

"Good." Dimitri didn’t open the bag. Didn’t need to. Vinnie had never shorted him in thirty years. "The Russians still trying to push into Sunset Park?"

"They tried. We convinced them otherwise." Vinnie’s smile was thin. "Won’t be trying again."

"Bodies?"

"Disappeared. Clean."

"Excellent. Keep the pressure on. I want our territory lines crystal clear before we expand into new markets."

Vinnie nodded, stepped aside.

Next was Marcus Webb....African-American, late forties, ex-Marine, ran Dimitri’s weapons trafficking operation. Guns, explosives, military-grade hardware moving through the Port of New York, distributed up and down the East Coast.

"Boss. Shipment from Serbia came in clean. Five hundred AK-47s, two hundred Glocks, fifty pounds of C-4, thirty RPGs." Marcus set down his bag....heavier than Vinnie’s. "Already distributed to our buyers. Boston, Philly, Baltimore, D.C. Full payment, no issues. The Serbian contact wants to know if you’re interested in anti-aircraft missiles. Says he can get Stingers."

Dimitri considered. "Price?"

"Hundred thousand per unit. Minimum order of ten."

"Tell him yes. But I want them routed through a different port. Not New York. Too much heat right now with the FBI task force." Dimitri pulled out his phone, made a note. "Use the Norfolk connection. Ship them as industrial equipment. Standard protocol."

"Yes, sir."

Marcus stepped back.

The parade continued.

Tommy Rizzo, gambling and loan sharking. Brought in numbers from underground poker rooms, sports betting operations, high-interest loans to desperate people who’d never climb out of debt.

Sandra Delgado, money laundering. Ran Dimitri’s network of legitimate businesses that cleaned dirty money. Restaurants, nightclubs, car washes, real estate holdings. Millions flowing through every month, coming out the other side sparkling clean.

Chen Wei, human trafficking protection rackets. Not running the operations, Dimitri had lines he wouldn’t cross...but "protecting" the people who did. Taking a cut of their profits in exchange for making sure the cops and feds looked the other way.

Each one brought their bag. Each one reported their numbers. Each one left richer than they’d arrived.

This was the machine.

The empire Dimitri had built in the eight years since he’d taken over the family business from Antonio’s New York operations.

Drugs. Weapons. Gambling. Money laundering. Protection rackets.

The illegal backbone that generated hundreds of millions annually.

The reason people called him the Devil.