Konstantin hadn't spoken yet. He stood cloaked in shadow at the far end of the room, his leather jacket draped over his chair. His blue eyes were fixed on the table, but his silence was louder than all their noise. He didn't need to speak because when he moved, people died, and everyone knew it.
Emilia's eyes darted between them. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, clutching the hem of her cardigan. She was trying to shrink, to disappear into the corner.
I didn't like it. I slammed my palm flat on the table. The sound sliced through the tension like a whip. Everyone stilled as my gaze went straight to her.
"Emilia."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide.
"Yes?" She answered.
"Come here."
She froze, and for a second, I thought she'd refuse. She had that stubborn streak and a fire that always tempted me to break her. But then, slowly, she stood and walked across the room. Every step she took looked like it cost her. She stopped at my side, close enough that I could smell the soft vanilla of her shampoo under the sharp stench of smoke and vodka.
Mikhail's mouth twisted. "What's she doing here, Viktor? This isn't a tea party."
"She stays," I said. My tone was sharp, and final. "She sees what we are, and she knows what we face."
Roman shook his head. "She's a child in this. She doesn't need to hear about the cartels and blood wars."
Emilia found her voice then; it was quiet but steady.
"I'm not a child."
The room turned, and my brothers stared, surprised she'd dare to speak. My lips curved, just slightly. She didn't even realize she had defended herself, not me.
Mikhail laughed darkly. "Not a child, she says. You think you understand what sits at this table, little one? You think you know what we decide here? Men's lives. Do you want their blood on your soft little hands?"
Her chin lifted. "Their blood is already on your hands, isn't it? It doesn't matter if I sit here or not."
The silence after she spoke lay heavy in the room. Even Konstantin's gaze flicked up, curiosity sparked for once.
I reached for her wrist and pulled her closer until she stood between me and the table, her back against my chest. My arm locked around her waist. I wanted them all to see. She wasn't apart from me. She was mine, even here, especially here.
"She learns," I said. "She sees, and she understands what it means to belong to me, to us."
Roman's eyes softened for a second, pitying her while Mikhail scoffed. Konstantin stayed unreadable, but none of them argued further.
I lowered my mouth to Emilia's ear, my words just for her, though everyone heard.
"You wanted out of the shadows. Now, you stand in the fire. Be sure not to flinch."
She trembled softly, but she didn't look away. Her gaze locked with Roman's across the table, and it was steady and defiant in a quiet way.
I felt a small surge of pride. I then tapped ash into the tray and looked back at my brothers.
"The Vipers think we're distracted. They think debts and politics make us weak. They're wrong. We don't bend, we break those who test us."
Mikhail growled eagerly. "Then let me break them tonight."
"Not yet," I said. "We wait, and we watch. Someone's feeding them information. A mole."
That got their attention, even Konstantin's head lifted. Roman frowned. "You're certain?"
"I'm never uncertain." I crushed out the cigarette. "They move too close, too fast. They know things they shouldn't. One of ours leaks, and until we find the rat, we strike nothing. We hold ground."
Mikhail shoved his chair back, restless, pacing like a caged animal. "Hold ground while they circle us? That's weakness."
