CHRISTOF
If Roman didn’t want money, he was about the throw something heavy on me.
“There’s something I need from you,” he continued. “A service only you can provide. Once that’s handled, we’ll talk access, routes, and timelines.”
“And if I say no?” I asked.
Roman shrugged. “Then you go back to ships and hoping no one’s watching too closely.”
I met his gaze, unblinking.
“Tell me what you want.”
“There’s a group I did business with,” Roman said, lowering his voice, not because anyone could hear us, habit just ran deep. “The Bajrak Syndicate.”
I immediately recognized the name. Albanian, old blood. They were ruthless, but not stupid, just… blunt. They believed intimidation was a strategy and violence was sports. They moved drugs the way animals moved territory, loud, aggressive, a
