For once, Mikhael doesn’t have some smartass remark. He just eyes me carefully and asks, “You good, cuz?”
“I’m fine,” I answer curtly. My suspicion doesn’t ease, not one bit. Out of everyone here, Mikhael had the strongest motive to put me in an early grave.
From now on, I’ll have to watch my back twice as carefully around him.
“Get me answers,” I growl at my men. “I want to know which one of the Danilomudakiordered this. I’ll tear their head off and send it back home in a gift box.”
“Yes,pakhan,” everyone answers in unison. For once, there don’t seem to be any disagreements.
But I can’t find it in me to be relieved. Because someone here talked. Someone I trusted. Someone I considered a friend.
Someone I considered a?—
I shake my head hard. Sima had nothing to do with this. It makes no sense. She’s sick and hasn’t had contact with any of the Danilos for years. More than that, she’s my wife. Who’s trying to get pregnant with my child.
It makes no sense for her to want to kill me. If I die, our deal dies with me.
How do you know that’s not what she wants, though? She doesn’t need your money. Not if she has Nikolai’s.
I grit my teeth and push that ugly thought squarely out of my mind.
As I stride out of the restaurant, I look around at the wreckage. At the corpse cooling in a pool of blood, the faces of men I should trust. That trust I thought I could count on has proven itself to be worth less than the ruined glass under my boots.
Someone leaked this meeting. I don’t know who yet, but I will.
And when I do, I’ll carve the truth out of their flesh myself.
50
PETYR
Back in the car, Ivan sits quietly across from me.
The city lights flicker over his worn face as we ride. His hands won’t rest on his knees—the fingers tap, then still, tap, then still, over and over again.
He breaks the silence first. “The crew is on cleanup,” he tells me after a quick glance at his phone. “They’ll wipe away any trace of us. It’ll be like we were never there.”
I give a curt nod. “Good.”
My voice comes out harsher than I intended, but he doesn’t flinch. He never does. Instead, his eyes hold mine, steady. Remind me without words that I’m not alone in this.
He lowers his voice. “Boris is gone, Petyr. His territory’s wide open now. If we don’t move fast, the Danilos will.”
I drag a hand down my jaw. My muscles ache from how hard I’m clenching them. “His body isn’t even cold yet. You want me to plant my flag before the man’s blood dries?”
“Idon’t want you to.” His gaze levels with mine. “Your Bratva needs you to.”
I clench my fist over the leather of the backseat. It feels wrong, stepping over the corpse of a man we were supposed to be allied with.
But at the same time, I know my uncle’s got a point. Our world isn’t merciful. Never has been, never will be.
Ivan leans forward slightly. The overhead light catches the gray in his hair. “I want you alive, nephew,” he says simply. “I want our people safe. That means we don’t leave gaps. If you don’t take it, Anatoli will. You know that.”
I exhale hard through my nose and lean back against the leather seat.
I hate that he’s right. I always have. But it’s one of the reasons I trust him. He doesn’t tell me what I want to hear—he tells me what Ineedto hear.
“I know,” I admit quietly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
