Damian leaned back in the chair opposite Farrell’s desk and focused on the map on the monitor. New York City and its surrounding areas were magnified, red and blue dots scattered across the island and suburbs — red representing Fiore’s assets, blue for the Greeks.

“You can see the territory is about evenly split between Fiore and Anastos,” Farrell said. “Fiore had the edge when we approached you a couple months ago, but Anastos took advantage of your hit on the Fiore assets following the fire at the shelter.”

Damian could picture almost every location on the map — every restaurant, night club, bodega, liquor store. He knew the territory like the back of his hand.

Farrell was right: the Greeks had gained ground over the past two months while he’d been preparing to get Aria back.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not with Aria safe instead of in the apartment in Athens. He would do it again a hundred times over, would sacrifice any asset, any amount of money, to have her in his arms.

“What do we know about the weaknesses in Anastos’s operation?” Damian asked.

“Not as much as we’d like,” Farrell said. “Their men are more tight-lipped than Fiore’s men.”

It didn’t surprise Damian. You couldn’t scare people into being loyal. If you didn’t inspire them, any loyalty they showed you would be disposable.

Farrell tabbed through some pictures on the computer and a series of photographs emerged — dark-haired men with thick faces and hulking shoulders, their eyes either downcast or hidden by sunglasses.

“So I need to dig,” Damian said, looking at the men on the monitor. “Find out more about his top guys, see if we can push some of their buttons.”

Even the most hardened criminals had weaknesses. Even fucking Farrell Black had a weakness — and she was somewhere in this very house.

Hell, Damian had one of his own in the same house, much as he hated to admit it.

Damian didn’t like using innocent people, but there were always other weaknesses to be exploited.

“I’ll have my guys get on it,” Damian said.

He felt clear-headed for the first time since Aria had disappeared over the edge of the balcony two months earlier. He couldn’t expect Farrell and the others to help him from here on out. They’d helped him get Aria back. It was more than he’d expected.

Retaking the New York territory was his responsibility.

He had acquired an impressive team of hackers since he’d established his business. Brute force was an option, but there would be heavy casualties. If they could establish the identity of Anastos’s top men, they could start looking for ways to pull the operation apart. At the very least, it would make the brute force portion of the takeover easier.

“We got a jump on that in Paris,” Farrell said.

Damian looked at him. “Paris?”

“That’s where Christophe’s cyber lab is located,” Farrell said. “He’s expecting you. You should be able to find everything you need there — about the men and about the locations they’re using as strongholds. That should help you plan your assault.”

Damian sat back, studied Farrell for a minute before speaking. “I don’t expect you to help me any further.”

“Good,” Farrell said, leaning back in his own chair. “Because expecting me to help you is about the time I stop helping you.”

Damian nodded. “I appreciate what you did for Aria. What all of you did for her.” He hesitated. “For me.”

Farrell seemed to choose his words carefully. “Are you sure about this? About her?”

Damian checked his instinct to be defensive about Aria. He’d heard stories about the men who now ran the Syndicate. They’d all taken risks for their women. Farrell wasn’t out of line to ask the question given what he’d done for Damian and Aria.

“I’m sure,” Damian said. He opened his mouth to say something else, then decided against it and shook his head.

“Care to add something?” Farrell asked.

Damian sighed. Why the fuck did he have the urge to be straight with Farrell Black?

“I was just going to say it wouldn’t matter even if I wasn't sure about her,” Damian said.

Farrell raised his eyebrows. “That far gone?”

Damian’s nod was slow. “I’m afraid so.”

“All the more reason to be careful,” Farrell said. “What about the brother?”

Damian appreciated that Farrell hadn’t judged him for his utter lack of reason when it came to Aria — not outwardly, anyway.

“Still underground,” Damian said. “Aria said he never showed his face in Greece — only Gatti.”

“Does she know?” Farrell asked. “About Primo’s involvement in her kidnapping?”

Damian shook his head. “Not yet. She’s still recovering.”

He didn’t say the rest of it — that Aria had twitched and cried out in her sleep, that while she’d shown no sign of wanting to talk about what happened to her, Damian feared it would do lasting damage to keep such a traumatic experience bottled inside.

That was for him and Aria.

Farrell rubbed the five o’ clock shadow on his chin. There was concern in his eyes. “I understand, but the longer you wait to tell her the truth the more it will seem like you were lying to her.”

“I know.” Damian wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. “Let me get her to Paris, give her a couple days to recover.”

“And after Paris?” Farrell asked.

It didn’t take Damian long to answer. After Paris, there was only one thing left to do.

“After Paris I take back New York,” Damian said. “For all of us.”