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Sal’s voice dropped to a cold promise.“Then we stop him before he gets anywhere near Chicago.”

“I’ve already got men en route in the helicopter.They can intercept him before he reaches Rockford.”

Sal nodded once, slow and grim, his hands braced on his hips.His brain was already calculating.Normally he didn’t meddle in another boss’s business—unless it spilled onto his turf.And a blood-soaked trail down Interstate Ninety wasn’t just provocation.It was a declaration.

Tony must have seen the change in his expression because a slow grin spread across his face.“What are you thinking?”he asked, lowering his voice.

Sal rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, eyes narrowing in focus.“Tolema’s working with Bianchi—trying to get more guns to his Montana boys.Tolema can’t close the deal himself, but he’s sending men to pick them up south of St.Paul.”

Tony’s brows shot up.“How the hell do you know that?”

Sal gave him a sharp grin that held no humor.“You think you’re the only one with secret sources?”

Tony laughed, shaking his head, then crossed his arms.“What do you want me to do?”

Sal strode to the wall and pressed a concealed button.The wood paneling slid back, revealing a glowing digital map of the United States.He tapped the screen, zooming in with precise movements until the interstate came into focus.

“Bianchi is here,” Tony pointed out, tapping the map over the city of Janesville.

“And our guys are going to intercept him here,” Sal countered, pointing further down the corridor.His eyes narrowed.“But if we cut off his arms shipment—” he dragged his finger across the map, tracing an alternate route “—and force the driver down this road, we can choke him out before he ever gets close.”

Tony leaned in, his grin sharpening.“Get them off Interstate Thirty-Five and divert the shipment through Highway Thirteen.”He tapped the screen.“That’ll push them along the Minnesota River.”

Sal nodded.“Exactly.There’s a choke point near Bloomington.A single intersection.We bottleneck them there.”

Tony looked at him sidelong.“What’s the play, boss?You planning to take the shipment?”

Sal’s head shook once, slow and deliberate.“No.I don’t want a war with the Montana Bear Creek Gang.They’re mostly pushing inexpensive Canadian pills and turning a profit on small-time buyers.They’re harmless compared to what we deal with.But the last time someone messed with them…” His mouth flattened into a grim line.“…they painted a highway red.”

Tony rolled his eyes.“Yeah, I remember that.Guess they’re not sellingallof the drugs, huh?”

Sal chuckled.“Probably not.They’re definitely keeping some of them for personal use.”His fingertip tapped the glowing map with sharp precision.“So—we stop Bianchi here,” he said, marking the choke point in Wisconsin.“Meanwhile, the arms shipment keeps moving north toward Minneapolis.That run has Caruso’s greasy fingerprints all over it.If we cut it off before delivery, Bianchi has no choice but to double back.He’ll have to clean up the mess himself or risk losing face with his own allies.”

Tony’s mouth curved into a wolfish grin.“And the Bear Creek boys aren’t exactly known for their patience.”

“Exactly,” Sal said.His voice carried the cold finality of a death sentence.“Bianchi’s about to find out what it means to make enemies on two fronts.”

Tony tilted his head.“What about the guns?You planning to keep them?”

Sal shook his head, lips twitching into something between a smirk and a growl.“No.I know an obnoxious FBI agent who’s been itching to sink his teeth into something big.If I divert the truck through Bloomington, he’ll intercept the load.The Bureau will think they scored a major win, the Bear Creek gang will think Bianchi’s group screwed them, and Bianchi will be left scrambling to explain why his shipment went up in smoke and have to pay back the money.”

Tony let out a low whistle.“So the FBI gets the win, the Bear Creek boys start howling, and Bianchi is forced back to Minneapolis to put out the fire.Hell, boss, that’s not a plan.That’s art.”

“Art only works if it bleeds,” Sal muttered, tapping the map one last time before shutting it down with a swipe.The digital panel slid back into place with a whisper.“This buys us time, nothing more.I still need to keep him contained.”

Tony nodded, the dangerous spark in his eyes matching Sal’s.“We’ll stall him long enough.And when he doubles back, he’ll walk right into Montana’s fury.Those boys will eat him alive for screwing with their delivery.”

Sal walked to the bar, poured two glasses of scotch, and handed one to Tony.The liquid burned down his throat, grounding him in the reality of the choices he was making.

“What’s next?”Tony asked.

Sal stared into the amber depths of his glass.“Depends on how he reacts once the guns vanish into FBI custody.He’ll have two choices: run back and try to salvage his deal, or push forward into my city without an army behind him.”

Tony raised his glass.“And either way, he loses.”

Sal clinked his glass against Tony’s, his voice low and certain.“Damn right.But let’s not get cocky.I want contingencies on contingencies.This isn’t just about Bianchi anymore.We’re playing with a pack of wolves.”

“Good,” Tony said with a grin.“I like wolves.They taste better when they’re cornered.”