Silence. Then quietly: "Is she worth it? Destroying everything your father built?"
The question hangs between us. I think of her in my bed two nights ago, the way she'd traced my scars and asked about each one. The way she'd kissed the one my father gave me, like she could heal it with her mouth.
"My father built an empire on fear. It can burn." My voice drops to absolute zero. "She's the only thing worth saving from the ashes."
The calls go out fast. First to Sergei, one of my father's old lieutenants who taught me to shoot when I was seven.
"Alexei." His voice is careful. "I heard about your mother. My condolences."
"I need your men, Sergei. All of them."
A long pause. "Against who?"
"Kaz."
"Christ." The sound of a cigarette being lit. "You're asking me to choose between blood and blood."
"I'm asking you to remember who pulled your son from that burning warehouse in Minsk."
The memory hangs between us: his boy, sixteen and stupid, caught in a rival family's trap. I'd gone in myself when everyone else said he was already dead.
"My men are yours," Sergei says finally. "All twelve."
Next, Dmitri who runs the south territory. His daughter is engaged to Kaz's cousin on his mother's side. This one will hurt.
"I can't, Alexei. You know I can't."
"Then stay out of my way."
"This woman…" His voice drops. "She's worth a civil war?"
I think of her standing in my kitchen yesterday morning, making terrible eggs while wearing my shirt. The way she'd laughed when I'd tried to save them, adding too much salt. How we'd ended up ordering delivery instead, eating Chinese food in bed while she told me about the time Luca tried to teach her chemistry and nearly burned down their garage.
"Yes."
"You're going to lose men today. Good men."
"Then I'll lose them."
The third call is to Pavel, who runs our weapons cache. Young, ambitious, smart enough to fear me.
"Whatever you need," he says before I even finish explaining. "The entire arsenal if necessary."
"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious. "You could stay neutral."
"Because I've seen how you've been since she arrived. Different. Almost…" he searches for the word. "Happy. If she makes you human enough to be happy, she's worth protecting."
The observation cuts deep. Happy. Is that what I was?
The convoy forms behind me on the highway shoulder. Black SUVs falling into formation like a funeral procession. Through the rearview, I catch my reflection: blood on my hands from the broken window, death in my eyes. This is who I really am. Notthe man who sobbed in her arms. Not the man who showed her how to tend a bonsai with infinite patience. This.
Chicago's skyline rises ahead like a promise of violence. The warehouse district spreads before us, all industrial decay and perfect killing grounds. My phone buzzes with updates. Kaz is locked down with fifteen men. No word on her condition.
The not knowing burns in my throat. Copper and ash, the taste of everything I'm about to destroy.
I make one final call. To Sasha, who oversees our medical team.
"I need you at the warehouse in ninety minutes. Full trauma setup."
