Silently, I hand over the two guns I have on my person, along with the knife at my belt—and the one tucked into my ankle,after Niko gives me a hard look when I try to get away with keeping it.
“He’s already here,” the Bratva Pakhan informs me, and I nod again, indicating for Mac to wait here before I head inside.
Ronan is standing near the middle of the room, a lit cigarette in his hand. I’ve never met him in person, but his reputation precedes him. He’s around my age and looks every bit as deadly as the rumors suggest he is. His features are sharp, unforgiving, like he’d been carved from stone. The pale blue eyes glinting in the low light are a sharp contrast to his inky black hair, slicked back neatly atop his head.
He’s sharply dressed—in a suit, all black. All clean lines and expensive taste, and not a drop of ink in sight.
I take a few steps into the room, letting the door close behind me before greeting him.
“Volkov.”
I don’t sit.
And neither does he. Ronan doesn’t answer me either, just stands there, all predatory, sizing me up. The way he moves is quiet, deliberate, controlled, and immediately I can tell the most dangerous part about him is hismind. He keeps his eyes on me as he brings his cigarette up to his mouth and takes a drag.
“O’Rourke.”
I’ve been around a lot of bad men in my life, the worst of the worst, but something about Ronan just doesn’t sit right with me. There’s a wrongness that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. His eyes are cold and there’s a deadness to them. They’re light, yet full of darkness—empty, like there’s no soul behind them. I fold my arms across my chest and wait.Hecalled this meeting, after all.
“You killed my men.”
“Aye,” I say, with a dip of my chin. I did, a few weeks ago, when his men were terrorizing the Kostalov estate, threatening Aidan’s soon-to-be wife, so I did what needed to be done.
Ronan has no reaction, though I think I see his jaw clench. “They were good men.”
I can’t help but scoff, “Not what I hear.” Ronan’s dead expression flames suddenly into a glare. But considering that Aidan killed one of Ronan’s men after he tried to assault Rory, I respectfully disagree with that statement.
Ronan stares at me for a long moment, the silence thick between us, his expression unchanging. “Where is your pretty little pet tonight?”
I try not to react, pulling my phone out of my pocket to check the time, acting bored with the conversation. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Ronan’s mouth twitches. “Somewhere else to be?”
“Yes, actually. I’m a busy man,” I say, staring him down. “Get to the point, Volkov. What is it that you want?”
“You should have stayed in your own lane,Rí.” My eyes narrow when he uses my nickname. “You stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong, and now Moscow wants you dead for what you’ve done.” He inhales the last of his cigarette, flicking away the embers before dropping the butt into the ashtray sitting atop the table between us.
I keep the same cool, indifferent expression on my face. “Okay,” I reply calmly, because someone wanting me dead isn’t out of the ordinary day-to-day, but the threat from the Volkov is certainly one we need to take seriously. “And what doyouwant?” I tilt my head to study him, because Niko had warned me; this ispersonalfor Ronan, but what I can’t figure out is why? Men die in this dark world we’ve built every day. It was a risk all of us knew going in.
“I want your death.” He glares at me, the flames in his pale eyes turning to ice. “But I want your death to be a mercy, after I take everything else from you first.”
“The last thing this city needs is a war, Ronan,” I warn. If the Volkov come for Boston, we’ll have to throw everything we have at them to stand a chance. That tentative alliance between the Irish, the Boston Bratva, and the Italians will be put to the test.
“Make no mistake, Rí, this isn’t a war.” He uses the name again, and I clench my jaw. His hands slide into his pockets, and he looks down at me. He’s taller, nearly the same height as Liam, who’s around six five. “This is a consequence.” He pauses, his eyes gleaming with veiled amusement. “Tell me, how is your family?”
I stiffen, despite myself, and my hand twitches for the gun I don’t have at my belt. “Don’t go there, Ronan,” I warn him, my eyes impossibly dark. “Whatever this is, it’s between you and me. Family is off limits, you know that.” It’s an unspoken rule in this world, but the one most frequently broken.
Ronan’s eyes gleam. “Such loyalty,” he purrs, and my fists tighten. “You should be careful who you let close, and beware the snake in the grass.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t answer me, just walks past, headed for the door, but pauses before he reaches it, looking back over his shoulder.
“Enjoy what you can, Irish King, because I’m going to burn your kingdom to the ground, and the only thing you’re going to be able to do is watch.”
65
YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD
