I frown. “Shitty. It needs some work.”
Myro nearly topples again, forgetting that there’s no support in the stool he chose. I burst out laughing before I take pity on him and pull over a chair that has a solid base, so he doesn’t always have to engage his core muscles.
“You’ve had this the entire time and just let me struggle?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
I smirk. “Yes.”
“Bitch,” he mutters.
“Maybe…” I let my voice trail off because I don’t actually have a suggestion for Myro. The only one that I could offer that might help would be if I wanted to step up, and I don’t. I’m not scared of much, but failing is certainly my biggest fear. I’ll definitely fail if I have to be Dad’s successor.
Myro is honestly taking one for the team. He’s taking on the role, so none of us has to. Not because he wants to or because he’s confident in his ability to be as good as Dad.
None of us would be as good as Dad.
“It’s fine,” Myro says. “As soon as my non-existent kid is old enough, I’ll hand off the reins.”
“I’m going to caution you to pay attention to your kid before you hand over a multi-billion-dollar empire to them,” I say. “Also, Uncle Noaz already has a kid. Maybe Emerson will want the position.”
Myro waves his hand. “I don’t know. Thankfully, he’s not stepping down tomorrow, so… I have a little time to get my shit together.”
“You know Dad has confidence in you, or he wouldn’t be giving you his crown,” I remind him. “Dad is far from dumb.”
“I know.” He waves his hand again. “Azlan doesn’t need to listen to me gripe.”
Azlan looks entirely indifferent to this conversation.
“Robert Thomas Kennedy Jr. has been disposed of. Azlan ripped out his spine.”
I look at Azlan, and fuck, the hairs on my body stand on end. Jesus fucking Christ. “You did what?”
“First, I did the whole spread eagle thing,” Azlan says, and he mimics ripping open his shirt as you might see Superman do to reveal his lycra. However, he’s referring to his ribs spreading open like cabinet doors.
Bile rises.
“Uh… great.”
“Before he died, I pulled out his spine. Just to see what would happen. If I hadn’t disrupted his spinal column, I think he’d have lived through more of it,” Azlan adds. “I have an idea for next time to keep their spinal column intact and extend their death while I dissect them. We’ll see if it works.”
I shudder as I stare at him. “Great,” I repeat. “Uh… he’s dead, then.”
Myro laughs. “Yeah, Voss. Very, very dead. There’s no coming back from this. No need for a wake.”
“Right. Okay. Good debrief.”
“You’re not the one we’re going to debrief regularly,” Myro notes. “You look a little green.”
“Didn’t you blow up all of New York to wipe out the mafia families?” Azlan asks.
“Yes, but I didn’tpersonallykill anyone.”
“I’d say you personally killed a lot of people,” Azlan says.
“Not with my bare hands. Not in front of my eyes.”
“Then you shouldn’t be a killer. If you can’t look into the face of the people you kill, then you shouldn’t pull the trigger,” Azlan says.
“I agree,” I say. “That’s why I’m not a killer.”
