1
PROLOGUE
FYODOR
November…
The cemetery air stings my throat as I breathe it in through my nose and hold it there for three full seconds before releasing. Cold bites at my exposed cheeks and the tips of my ears where my hat fails to cover them completely. My dress shoes sink into frost-crusted grass with each step, and the wet seeps through the seams in the leather to dampen my socks. I walk behind the processional of black-clad mourners, their shoulders hunched against the November wind that tears through the graveyard and scatters dead leaves across marble headstones.
Dominik Gravitch's casket sits suspended over the open grave on steel cables that creak when the wind gusts hard enough to rock the polished wood. The priest's voice drones in monotone liturgy, his words swallowed by the howl of air through bare branches overhead, but I'm not really listening, anyway. I'm watching Yuri, my uncle and Dominik’s father, stand with other mourners, both Gravitch and Mirov.
My boss stands at the head of the grave with his new wife tucked against his side under his arm. His face remains carved from granite, but his fingers dig into Inessa's shoulder through her black wool coat hard enough that I see the fabric bunch and pull. She trembles beneath his grip. Her brown hair whips across her tear-stained face, and she doesn't brush it away. She weeps openly, her body shaking with sobs that rack her from shoulders to knees, and Yuri holds her upright while she mourns the death of his son and her father, who were killed together.
I shift my feet and feel mud shift beneath my soles. The cold has worked its way past my coat and shirt to press against my ribs and spine. I flex my fingers inside my gloves to keep blood flowing to the tips. Behind me, Lev clears his throat, and I hear him spit onto the frozen ground. Vadim mutters a prayer under his breath. Dimitri stands to my left with his hands folded in front of himself and his eyes fixed on the casket.
We all handle death differently, but this loss represents almost tragic things. The heir to the Gravitch throne is in the ground, or will be shortly, and though the war brought on by the events that caused his death has wound itself up into a nice package, there are loose ends. That's why I'm here.
The priest finishes his prayer and steps back as workers move forward to lower the casket into the earth. The cables groan and squeal as they unwind, and the sound cuts through the wind and lodges itself in my skull. Inessa's sobs grow louder. Yuri's jaw clenches, and a vein pulses at his temple. But like the stoic man we all know him to be, the boss doesn't cry. Hell, he doesn’t even flinch while he watches that box drop into the pit dug for it.
When the casket settles at the bottom, Inessa's knees buckle, and Yuri catches her before she hits the ground. He lifts her against his chest and carries her away from the grave toward the line ofblack cars parked along the cemetery road. I follow at a distance with the others. My breath forms white clouds in the air that dissipate as quickly as they appear, carried off by the wind that promises rain later tonight.
At the cars, Yuri passes Inessa to a driver who helps her into the back seat of a sedan. She slumps against the window and presses her forehead to the glass. Her shoulders shake, and her mouth moves, but I can't hear what she says. Yuri shuts the door and turns to face me.
"Walk with me," he says.
I fall into step beside him as he moves away from the cars and deeper into the cemetery. His boots crack through thin ice in the puddles that dot the path. His breath comes out steady and controlled as if the chill doesn't affect him at all. Salt-and-pepper hair peeks out from beneath his hat, and his steel gray eyes scan the headstones we pass as though searching for something among the dead.
We walk for several minutes before he speaks again.
"Thank you for coming back," Yuri says to me. His tone is borderline monotone as he continues. "Did things in Perm wrap up easily?" The mission I was on there is over now, and our trade routes through the east are reinforced, but Yuri's call for me to come back quickly was perfect timing.
"Yes," I confirm. "I returned as soon as I got your message."
"Good." He stops walking and turns to face me fully. His eyes lock onto mine as he says, "I need you here now." Yuri reaches into his coat and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He taps one free and holds it between his lips as he returns the pack to his pocket. Then he lights it with a silver lighter that clicks twice before theflame catches before he inhales deeply and holds the smoke in his lungs, letting it stream out through his nostrils. The smell mixes with the scents of wet earth and decomposing leaves.
"My son is dead," he says. "My wife lost her father." The whole tale is a tragedy, but I don't need details to know how it's affected them both. "And now," he says, narrowing his eyes on me, "Inessa is being threatened with charges for killing her own mother. And the man responsible for putting her in that position is currently under state protection."
My job as an enforcer in this family under my uncle's leadership is to enforce well-established boundaries and agreements. Like the job I did in Perm where I reminded men in our employ who is boss and why he's the one they listen to. But I know Yuri called me back here for other reasons, and I'm eager to learn what they are.
"Marat Koslov," Yuri continues, taking another drag from his cigarette, "was there in a private room, watching everything. He saw Inessa kill Victoria as he hid like a coward, and then he went to the authorities and claimed murder…"
I feel the cold settle deeper into my bones. My toes have gone numb inside my shoes. I curl my fingers into fists and squeeze until my knuckles ache.
I meet his gaze and hold it. "What do you need from me?" If this man has already gone to the authorities, there isn’t much I can do short of tracking the man down in state protection. But if that's what the boss is asking me, that's what I'll do.
Yuri steps closer. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to his coat and hair. His breath fogs the air between us when he speaks. "I need Marat Koslov dead before he can testify. I need himsilenced permanently so my wife doesn't spend the rest of her life rotting in a cell for ridding the world of a woman who deserved to die."
The wind picks up and claws at my coat. My ears burn from the cold.
"Inessa is family now," Yuri continues. "She's my wife, and I will not allow her to take the fall for this. Not when the real blame lies with Victoria."
He reaches out and grips my shoulder. His fingers press hard enough that I feel them through the layers of fabric.
"With Dominik gone, you're my right-hand man now, Fyodor. I'm trusting you with this because I know you won't fail me. Track Koslov down wherever they've hidden him and eliminate him before he has the chance to testify."
I nod slowly as the orders wrap around my mind and start settling in. "I'll find him, Boss." I've always known Yuri leaned on me for important tasks. Before Dominik was old enough to have any say, I was the one Yuri came to for advice. Being brought into the fold as his new right hand is an honor I won't fail at.
"I know you will." Yuri releases my shoulder and steps back. "Because if you don't, my wife will go to prison, and I'll lose her the same way I lost my son. And I can't allow that to happen."
