But duty calls, and in my world, family always comes first.
Even if, for the first time in my life, I’m starting to wish it didn’t.
Humid air blasts me as I enter the main bathing area. A wall of heat, steam, and the faint scent of eucalyptus. My skin prickles, beads of sweat forming before I’ve taken three steps. Everything here is designed to render men vulnerable. The warmth that eases muscles and minds, the steam that obscuresclear vision, the enforced near-nakedness that strips away both literal and figurative armor.
Perfect for honest negotiation. Dangerous for those with secrets.
The main floor stretches before me, all dark wood and stone. Men of various ages recline in contemplative silence or speak in hushed tones. A judge soaks in the hot pool across from a city councilman. A police commissioner sweats near the very criminal he’s worked to arrest for months.
The Banya erases divisions, creating temporary equality based on mutual disarmament. It’s why the place works. Why we all respect the location’s neutrality.
Through the thick white steam, I spy my party in one of the private suites, visible through a section of glass wall. The damp fog clinging to the glass obscures my view, but I can recognize them easily enough. As I approach, I catalogue the distinct groups within the space.
Five Falcones on one side, including their Don—Carmine Falcone—and Gio.
Our family on the other, with Roman, Vitaly, Vanya, and Kolya. The invisible line between us might as well be drawn in blood. Decades of rivalry, carefully maintained boundaries, and occasional violence quickly smoothed over in the interest of business. The peace between our families has always been pragmatic rather than genuine.
Even in the midst of all those men, Roman is the focal point, always in control of the room. He wears his power like a second skin, comfortable even here, half-naked with just a towel around his waist. Despite the heat, his posture remains attentive as he listens to Carmine.
The gray-haired Falcone patriarch reclines opposite Roman, his aged body still showing the muscle of his younger days beneath sagging skin. Even in his seventies, Carmine radiatesdanger. A shark who’s survived decades in bloody waters. Sweat mats his gray chest hair, but his calculative eyes remain sharp, missing nothing.
My gaze shifts to Gio, who’s sitting slightly behind his father. His casual posture belies the intensity in his eyes.
Gio knows something about MJ’s death. I’m certain. The question is whether this meeting will bring me any closer to that truth.
Beside Roman, Vitaly leans forward, eager to be included.
Ever since MJ died, my half-brother’s been positioning himself as Roman’s right hand, filling the void our older brother left behind. His machinations aren’t subtle. Nothing Vitaly does ever is. His ambition hangs around him like cheap cologne. But he’s family, and even if his methods lack finesse, he’s loyal. He nods at whatever Roman says, jumping in too quickly to agree. Still the little brother desperate for approval.
Vanya sits slightly apart, lounging as if this were a day at the beach rather than a high-stakes meeting between rival families. His easy charm works its usual magic as he draws a chuckle from one of the Falcone lieutenants. That’s Vanya’s gift. He can get anyone to feel comfortable, lower their guard, and reveal more than they intended. Behind that lazy smile and easy demeanor lies one of the sharpest minds in our organization. He never misses a thing.
I pause, assessing the situation before I enter. The body language suggests this isn’t a hostile negotiation.
At least not overtly.
I see no tension in their shoulders, no hands curled into unconscious fists. Conversation flows, punctuated by occasional laughter. A friendly meeting on the surface. But in our world, surface appearances mean nothing.
The deadliest discussions often happen with smiles and handshakes.
Kolya stands in the corner, observing. Roman’s most loyal enforcer rarely talks, but his presence speaks volumes. Even here, in the Banya’s enforced peace, Kolya remains on guard. His eyes meet mine from across the room, his slight nod acknowledging my arrival.
I return the gesture, understanding the unspoken message.
Be careful. Something’s off.
The heat intensifies as I near the private suite, sweat now streaming down my back and chest. As I adjust my towel, my attention snags on the bracelet Aurora gifted me. The art piece sits against my skin, a reminder of who’s waiting for me at home.
Home.The word is a foreign concept. In the past, I’ve had places to live, bases of operation, but never a real home. Not until Aurora. Whatever game is being played here today, I need to stay sharp and focused. For her.
For us.
The Banya’s steam clings to my skin like a living thing as I reach the entrance to the private suite. Inhaling a lungful of the eucalyptus-scented air, I push open the door.
The conversation lulls as all eyes turn to me. Roman’s face remains impassive, but I catch the slight relaxation around his eyes.
Vitaly, always competitive, puffs up in my presence. Vanya’s smile doesn’t falter as he watches for my reaction.
“Alexei!” Carmine’s voice slices through the momentary silence. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”
