My hand tightens on the glass until I hear it crack. I set it down carefully before I shatter it. "And if I refuse?"
"War." Borge speaks up from his position by the window. "They're already moving soldiers into position, taking over neutral territory. They want you to react, to give them an excuse to come at you with everything they have."
I move to my desk and pull up the city map on my computer, studying the territories. One family controls the docks and most of the shipping. Another has the construction unions and several legitimate businesses. And the third runs protection rackets and underground gambling. Together, they're formidable.
But not invincible.
"We hit them first," Borge says, his voice eager. "Hard and fast. Take out their leadership before they can mobilize fully. Show them what happens when they challenge the Morozov family."
"That's exactly what they want." Alexei shakes his head. "They're baiting you, Dimitri. If you go on the offensive, the neutral families will see you as the aggressor. They'll side against you out of self-preservation."
"So we do nothing?" Borge's face flushes with anger. "We let them insult our Pakhan, threaten our family, and we just sit here?"
"I didn't say that." Alexei's voice is calm, measured. The voice of a man who's been my sovietnik for years, who's talked me down from the edge more times than I can count. "But we need to be smart about this. A prolonged war weakens everyone. It makes us all vulnerable to outside threats."
I think about Alina sleeping upstairs, about Katya in the bedroom down the hall. About the life I'm trying to build from the ashes of everything that's been destroyed.
"How many soldiers do they have combined?" I ask.
Pavel consults his notes. "Best estimate? Two hundred, maybe two-fifty. We have about one-twenty, but ours are better trained, better equipped."
"Numbers don't matter if we're fighting on multiple fronts." I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking. The eight-pointed star tattoo on my chest feels heavy beneath my shirt, a reminder of the rank I've earned, the respect I've commanded. "What about the neutral families? Who hasn't chosen sides?"
Alexei pulls up another file. "They're watching, waiting to see which way the wind blows. If we can get them on our side, the numbers shift in our favor."
I study the information, my mind working through angles and possibilities. Some are old guard, traditional. They won't like the changes I'm proposing, but they respect strength. Others are younger, more progressive. They might be open to restructuring. Then there are those who are pragmatic above all else. They'll side with whoever offers them the best deal.
"We reach out to them," I say, making the decision even as I speak. "Not with threats, but with opportunity. We offer them more autonomy, a larger share of the profits. We show them that the old ways are dying, and they can either evolve with us or go down with the families clinging to the past."
Borge makes a disgusted sound. "You're going to negotiate? Give away our power?"
"I'm going to consolidate our position." I meet his eyes, letting him see the steel beneath. "Power isn't just about how many soldiers you have or how much territory you control. It's about alliances. About knowing when to fight and when to make deals."
"The Pakhan is right." Alexei nods slowly. "If we can bring the neutral families to our side, the others will be isolated. They'll have to back down or face destruction."
"And if they don't back down?" Yuri asks.
"Then we destroy them." My voice is cold, flat. "But we do it from a position of strength, with allies at our back and the moral high ground. We make them the aggressors, the ones clinging to outdated codes that got Viktor Popov killed."
The room is quiet as my men process this. I can see them weighing the strategy, considering the angles. These are good soldiers, loyal men who've followed me through hell. But they're also used to solving problems with violence, with the direct application of force.
I'm asking them to trust a different approach.
"I'll reach out," Alexei says finally. "I have contacts, people who owe me favors. I can set up a meeting."
"I'll handle the Kuznetsovs." Yuri straightens from the bookshelf. "Their youngest son and I served together. He'll listen."
"The Romanovs are mine." I stand, moving to the window where Borge still looms. I place a hand on his massive shoulder, feeling the tension there. "I know you want blood, Brother. So do I. But I have more to protect now than just territory and reputation."
Borge's expression softens slightly. "The girl. Your wife."
"My wife," I confirm. "And her sister. And whatever future we're trying to build. I won't sacrifice that for pride or tradition."
He nods slowly, accepting if not entirely agreeing. "What do you need from me?"
"Double the security on the estate. I want eyes on every approach, every possible entry point. If someone tries anything, I want to know about it before they're within a mile of this house."
"Done."
