Which meant someone had to fill the void. I saw the opening and stepped in as their new supplier. The payoff has been more than enough to finish building my own house on the estate and fund the projects I’ve been pitching to my father the past few years.
Now the newpakhan, Aleksei, wants me to withdraw my alliance with the Nightshades—an impossible request. One I made clear I wouldn’t be honoring. If they didn’t want that revenue stream to dry up, they should have guided Sergey away from his destructive path. My sister is part of the Nightshadesnow, and so is my nephew. That makes them family. And I’m not turning my back on family because Alexsei demands it.
I have no desire to lose our Russian alliance, obviously, but they’ve lost so much power since Sergey’s arrest that losing their support wouldn’t be catastrophic.
Aleksei knows as much and smoothed over his ridiculous demand with a smile and an awkward, “I understand your reluctance to turn your back on them since your sister now lives among them.”
And that was that.
Once resolved, I could finally head home. But I had to extend my stay another few days because Fabian—my uncle from my mother’s side who’s involved in several building projects I’m currently managing—kept rescheduling our meeting. Day after day, always claiming some vague busyness that felt increasingly suspicious.
So I reached out to Gjon, my father’s brother who has a small group on Long Island, to find out what the hell was going on. Gjon revealed that Fabian’s been leaving Long Island to meet someone in Queens—which isn’t inherently suspicious.
Except Queens is my territory, and everyone knows there’s been bad blood between Fabian and my father since my mother’s death years ago.
If Fabian’s been coming to Queens without alerting me orAtë, then he’s most likely not up to anything good.
Atëshakes his head in disgust. “I’m not even surprised the Russians are trying to worm their way back into the Nightshades’ good graces. Don’t they have any shame left?”
I shrug in response. “Aleksei was just dealt a bad hand.”
We both took over our family business at roughly the same time, but I don’t envy his position. Sergey left him a complete shitshow. It will take Aleksei years to regain even a fraction of the power the Russians used to have in the city—assuming he ever manages it at all.
“Sounds like the trip to Long Island was successful, then.”Atëbeams at me, pride clear in his eyes.
I should tell him about Fabian. But…
I decide to keep that particular piece of news to myself for now. No point upsetting him when I don’t have solid proof that Fabian’s actually doing something bad.
“It definitely was.” I return his smile, even as guilt gnaws at my stomach.
I’m not keeping secrets from him.
I’m just protecting him.
3
KATIE
The ground vibrates under my feet the moment I stop in front of the round bungalow that’s been converted into a bar, the music pulsing from behind the closed door.
There are even guards stationed on either side of the entrance wearing sunglasses despite the late evening—just like real bouncers at an actual nightclub would.
“Built last year,” Esma, one of the other maids, bubbles beside me, her eyes practically sparkling as she stares at the door. “The bar and club. It was Mr. Roan’s idea. Before this, the men used to go out to the city for entertainment, but now?—”
But now they stay here. Safe. Under Roan’s watchful eye, his control extending even into their free time. Very smart of him, really. A perfect way to maintain loyalty and keep the estate buzzing with activity long after shift changes in the dead of night. And more than that, it’s strategic. No one wanders off property, no one gets reckless outside where they could be picked up by cops or worse—by their enemies.Someone like me.
“Come on.” Esma starts up the short front steps, nodding familiarly at the guards.
I shake off my analytical thoughts and follow her inside,immediately stopping in my tracks as the interior unfolds before me. Stunning doesn’t cover it.
Tall, dark wood beams arch overhead, spanning a sprawling open area with low leather couches clustered beneath golden, chandelier-style lights. A wide, polished bar stretches along the far wall, bottles of different liquor lined up in neat rows on backlit shelves.
Several men are scattered throughout in relaxed groups—some leaning against the bar with drinks in hand, others laughing and playing cards in the corner. A few women I recognize from the staff are also present. Some perched on couch arms, touching the men casually, while others nurse their drinks and observe the card players.
The door shuts behind me, but I linger near the entrance, cataloging exits and sight lines out of habit. Two closed doors across the room—restrooms and back office, most likely. Maybe storage. Definitely worth investigating later.
If there is a later.
