Chapter 152: Seventy-Two Hours

Chapter 152: Seventy-Two Hours
Anya had three days.

Three days to plan and execute an offensive.

Three days to end the war.

She was going to use every second of them.

The coalition met in a warehouse in Red Hook. Safe. Swept for bugs. Guarded by twenty soldiers.

“We were given an ultimatum by Sokolov,” Anya began. “Seventy-two hours to disarm and leave New York or be destroyed.”

“Arrogant,” Dmitri muttered.

“Confident,” Anya corrected. “He has a base. He has men. He’s not bluffing.”

“So what do we do?”

“Make New York uninhabitable for him.” Anya pulled up a projection. “Sokolov is a man of fear. He’s dealt with opposition that crumbles. Refugees.”

“We’re not refugees.”

“We’re predators.” Anya highlighted targets on the map. “Sokolov has five dozen soldiers. Elite. Dangerous. But five dozen against eight million New Yorkers?”

She zoomed in on specific targets.

“These are Sokolov’s supply chains. Safe houses. Communication nodes. Weapon caches. Over the next three days, we cut them all.”

“Simultaneous attacks?” Irina asked.

“Coordinated. Methodical. Surgical.” Anya looked at the group assembled in the warehouse. “Every family attacks three targets. Hit them hard. Extract information. Move on.”

“That’s a lot of missions.”

“Which is why we’re not doing it alone.” Anya opened another screen. Agent Chen’s face popped up on the video link.

“The FBI will support you,” Chen said. “Surveillance. Intel. Tactical backup when necessary. We can’t be directly involved in your missions, but we can ensure you’re not walking into ambushes.”

“And what do we do for you?” Dmitri asked suspiciously.

“Evidence. Testimony. All the information you can gather on Sokolov’s network.” Chen’s voice was steady. “This is a partnership. We both have something to gain.”

“Or we both get taken out,” Anthony said.

“Then we better ensure we win.” Anya turned off the feed. “Agent Chen’s team will be operating out of their command center. We’ll have eyes on Sokolov and his movement. Reaction times. Reinforcement patterns.”

“You’re really doing this. Full collaboration with the feds.” Dmitri shook his head.

“I’m doing what we have to do.” Anya looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to like it. But you do have to do it.”

The room was silent.

“The Morozovs are in,” Dmitri finally said. “Officially. For the record, I think this is insanity.”

“Got it.” Anya turned to the other groups.

“The Volkovs are in,” Irina said.

“The Ferraras as well,” Anthony added.

“Excellent.” Anya distributed folders. “These are your targets. Learn them. Teams will mobilize in six hours. Questions?”

“What about Sokolov himself?” Viktor asked. “While we’re attacking his operation he’ll be planning his own attacks.”

“Let him plan. We’ll be ready.” Anya opened a different map. “Our key locations are all reinforced. Brighton Beach. The waterfront. Ferrara territory. Morozov warehouses. He can’t attack us all at once.”

“He will try.”

“Then we make him pay.” Anya’s voice was hard. “Every attack he makes is evidence. Every soldier he mobilizes is a witness. The more he escalates the more material the FBI has on him.”

“You’re using us as bait.”

“I’m using anything as bait. Including myself.” Anya closed the folders. “Sokolov believes he’s the predator. He’s wrong. This entire city is bait. We’re about to spring this trap.”

The meeting broke up. Groups coalesced. Gear was distributed. The machinery of war being set in motion.

Viktor grabbed Anya to one side.

“This is ambitious. Even for you.”

“It has to be.” Anya checked her weapon. “Sokolov has every reason to expect us to bunker down. Go into hiding. Wait for him to come for us. We are going to be the ones who come for him. Attack him everywhere at once.”

“And when he fights back?”

“We’ll be ready.” Anya put away her gun. “I have back up teams at all of our key locations. Medics on standby. Escape plans made. We’re not going into this blind.”

Viktor looked at her. “You’ve changed. Since this started. Since the Syndicate moved into New York.”

“I’ve adapted.” Anya met his eyes. “That’s what survivors do.”

“It’s more than that. You’re not just surviving anymore. You’re building something. Something bigger than territory. Money.”

“What am I building?”

“An empire. A real one. Built on unity instead of fear.” Viktor’s voice was low. “Your father would despise it.”

“Good.” Anya forced a small smile. “That means I’m doing it right.”

They stood in companionable silence.

“After this is over,” Viktor said. “After Sokolov is destroyed. What then?”

“Then we cement it. Solidify the coalition. Make it permanent.” Anya looked at the warehouse around them. “No more scattered families fighting over turf. A single unified organization. Professional. Organized.”

“And the FBI? Chen?”

“We keep the relationship going. As long as it benefits us.” Anya was calculating. “The Syndicate won’t be the last attempt to take what we have. There will always be another group who wants to kill our people and steal what we’ve built. Better to have allies in law enforcement.”

“You’re talking about a long-term relationship. This is unprecedented.”

“Everything I do is unprecedented.” Anya turned to face him. “I was supposed to vanish after my exile. Fade away. Disappear. Instead I built this. In spite of every expectation. Every prediction.”

“You did.”

“So why stop now? Why be satisfied with survival when we can have power?” Anya’s voice was fierce. “The Bratva has always been reactive. Defensive. What if we were proactive? Calculated?”

“You’re talking about changing the entire culture.”

“I’m talking about evolution. Adaptation.” Anya closed the gap between them. “The old ways destroyed my father. Destroyed the Kozlovs. Killed good people. It’s time for the Bratva to change.”

Viktor pulled her to him. “I’m with you. Whatever you build. Whatever you become.”

“I know.” Anya leaned into him. “That’s why I can do this.”

They held each other as the warehouse hummed with activity around them.

Three days.

Three days to cut Sokolov’s operation off at the knees.

Three days to demonstrate to every other syndicate in New York that the coalition could take anyone.

Three days to win or lose everything.

Anya pulled away. Adjusted her jacket.

“Let’s go.”

The first wave of attacks began at midnight.

Morozov teams assaulted Queens safe houses. Four soldiers were captured. Weapons were confiscated.

At one AM, Ferrara teams attacked Manhattan. Two communications hubs were taken down.

At two AM, Volkov teams took out a weapons supplier in the Bronx.

Anya monitored from command. Several screens. Live feeds.

“That’s nine successful operations in six hours,” Elena said. “No casualties. Minimal casualties.”

“And Sokolov?”

“Still holed up in The Plaza. No movement. But his people are starting to panic.” Elena opened a feed of intercepted communications. “They know they’re being attacked. But they don’t know where or by whom.”

“Excellent. Keep him on edge.” Anya highlighted the next round of targets. “Have teams prepare for the morning offensives. I want to hit twelve more locations by noon.”

“That’s very aggressive.”

“That’s the idea.” Anya stood. Stretched. “Sokolov gave us three days. In three days, he won’t have an operation left.”

“And then?”

“And then he is just one man. Alone. Exposed.” Anya’s smile was cold. “And we take him down.”

The war had started.

And Anya Kozlov was winning.