“You’re a darling.” Nikolai grins, his dark eyes tracking her movements. “How’d you know I was thirsty again?”
She rolls her eyes and walks away. I drag my tumbler across the wood, then tip it back and swallow the rest in one burning reach. “Sergei’s going to break something when he hears we took the docks.”
Lev gives the guys by the door one last look, then turns away and downs his shot.
Nikolai huffs a short laugh. “Your uncle can go and fuck himself. Traitors always think they deserve a cut.”
I set my jaw, my fingers curling instinctively toward my father’s dagger at my hip. “Not a fucking penny is what he gets. Father built those ties. We only finished what he started.”
Lev studies me, his expression softening. “You turn twenty-five tomorrow. Father and Mother would’ve been proud of you.”
The words land deeper than he knows. Nikolai watches me too, and for a breath, it’s like we share the same memory. He breaks it with a quiet huff. “Don’t let him get in your head. Sentiment. Lies. They get men killed faster than bullets.”
He’s not wrong. Ever since Father died, the rules haven’t held the same way.
Always check your surroundings. Never trust the quiet man.
I scan the room once more. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is wrong tonight. The noise is too rhythmic, the shadows too stationary. I set my empty glass on the bar. “I’m going home.”
“Already?”
“Already. Come on,mladshenkiy. Let’s go.”
“You’re being paranoid again,” Lev groans, though he’s already reaching for his coat. “We just won the docks. We should be celebrating, not running back to the fortress to count the silver.”
“I count the silver so you can afford to lose it at the tables,” I snap, but I keep my hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the door. “Move.”
Nikolai falls into step behind us, his humor drying up as he scans the exits. “The queue is too long for a Friday. Too many cars idling on the curb. Vitya is right. Something smells like shit.”
We could retreat and wait for the armored detail, but a Morozov doesn't hide from his own curb. The shadows aren't right, yet I keep walking because the alternative is letting this city see me flinch.
“Can we at least open the Beluga?” Lev asks.
“Tomorrow, for Viktor’s birthday. Right before we find you someone to fuck. You’re clearly lacking.” Nikolai’s grin is sharp in the dim light.
“Oh, fuck off.” Lev swings at him and misses. Nikolai just laughs and keeps walking.
The blond guy in the black shirt is leaning against a pillar near the exit, looking too clean for a place like this. As we pass, he catches Lev’s eye and offers a slow, knowing smile. My brother stops mid-step, a dark flush creeping up his neck before he quickly looks away, his movements suddenly clumsy. I dismiss the interaction as the drink and the heat of the club. Lev is soft. He needs to harden if he’s going to survive this city.
Outside, the bouncer pulls the rope wide the second he sees me. He keeps his head down in a mix of respect and fear. I give him a quick nod as we hit the sidewalk.
Across the street, Artyom is already waiting by the black Maserati. The rain streaks the pavement, the streetlights smeared across the wet asphalt. A line has already formed along the curb. I feel their stares like heat on the back of my neck. In this part of town, everyone knows the Morozov name. Still, tonight the crowd is quieter than usual. I don’t like it.
Lev and Nikolai are still bickering as we reach the car.
“Enough about sex.” I slow beside the curb. “Lev, take home whoever you want. Just keep them out of the office.”
“Viktor,” Lev’s brows draw together, offended. “I was just saying to Nikolai that?—”
“You’re looking for something serious.” Nikolai clicks his tongue. “You barely had your fun yet,mladshenkiy. Don’t tie yourself to someone who’s watching what you can give them instead of who you are. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re an asshole,” Lev mutters.
“No. I’m just being honest.”
We reach the Maserati. Artyom tips his head.
“Take us home.”
