Chapter 17 - The Final Play
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“I am going to end this,” Sophia stated, her voice hardening with an absolute, terrifying resolve.
She turned away from Adrian’s broken gaze and walked over to where Marcus was sitting. She pulled the encrypted burner phone from her pocket—the same one Marcus had used to contact Valentina hours ago.
“What are you doing?” Marcus asked, frowning deeply.
“I’m fixing his mess,” Sophia replied. She dialed Valentina’s private number.
The line rang three times before it was answered.
“I heard you survived the gala,” Valentina said, her voice tight and weary. “My brother is dead.”
“Adrian killed him in self-defense, Valentina,” Sophia said firmly. “Dante broke the parley. He tried to execute Adrian in the ballroom.”
“It doesn't matter who shot first, Sophia,” Valentina sighed, the immense weight of the mafia hierarchy crushing her words. “My father is demanding blood. The Russo capos are already mobilizing. Adrian is a dead man, and if you are with him, so are you.”
“I want to make a deal,” Sophia proposed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“You have nothing left to trade.”
“I have the location of the Miami weapons cache,” Sophia lied smoothly, utilizing the financial data she had decrypted at the cabin. “Adrian didn't sell all of the shipments to the cartel. He hoarded half of it in a secure bunker in New Jersey to prepare for a war with your family. I have the coordinates, and I have the access codes.”
The silence on the line was deafening. The weapons cache was worth millions, but more importantly, seizing it would completely cripple Adrian’s ability to fight a protracted war.
“What do you want in exchange?” Valentina finally asked.
“Amnesty,” Sophia demanded. “For me, and for Marcus. We walk away, entirely untouched. You let us disappear, and I give you the keys to Adrian’s armory. You can use it to crush his remaining loyalists and claim the city for yourself. You become the head of the Russo family.”
Valentina let out a dark, appreciative laugh. “You are incredibly ruthless, Miss Bennett. You’re selling out the man you love.”
“I’m surviving,” Sophia corrected coldly. “Do we have a deal?”
“Text me the coordinates,” Valentina agreed. “If the weapons are there, you and your guard dog have safe passage out of New York. You have my word as the new head of the Russo family.”
Sophia ended the call. She pulled the battery out of the burner phone and tossed it into the trash can.
She turned around. Adrian was watching her from the cot, his face an unreadable mask of agony and shock. He had heard every word.
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“You sold out my armory,” Adrian whispered, unable to comprehend the betrayal.
“I gave her empty coordinates to an abandoned warehouse in Newark,” Sophia replied, walking over to the table and picking up her leather tote bag. “It will take her men three hours to breach the location and realize it’s a decoy. That gives you exactly three hours to rally your capos, secure your actual assets, and prepare for a siege. It’s the only head start you’re going to get.”
