Katriana has spent the last five years quietly paying this debt. Did Jonah not know? If he did, why didn’t he help? Did she think she could just take care of the problem herself? Or was she with my brother for the money?
I flick away that last assumption. Katriana doesn’t have gold digger energy about her. I won’t even entertain that idea.
The rage that erupts through my veins is white-hot and absolute. It sears away every rational thought, every calculated response, every measured approach I have spent forty-six years perfecting. All that remains is the primal need to protect what is mine and destroy anyone who dares threaten it.
Katriana may not know she belongs to me yet.
But Victor Kedrov is about to learn.
"Get your coat." I pull out my phone and type a message to Rafael with fingers that tremble slightly from the effort of containing my fury. I hit send:
Might start something tonight. Keep your head on a swivel.
Luca stands and shuts off his machines. “Where we going?”
"We're paying Victor a visit."
Luca is already shrugging into his jacket, that familiar gleam of anticipation lighting his dark eyes. He used to be an assassin for Club Genesis before he got smart and joined our side, and there are moments when I remember why he was so very good at his former profession.
"Oh, sounds fun. Haven’t put a body in the ground in a few. What's the play?"
I fold Katriana's wish and slip it into my breast pocket, right next to my heart, where I can feel its weight with every breath.
"I'm going to make him an offer. Then we’ll see what he says." I head for the door, and Luca falls into step beside me. "If he refuses, you're going to help me bury the body."
The elevator carries us down into the Chicago night, and I watch the floor numbers descend with the cold patience of a man whohas just discovered exactly how far he is willing to go for a woman who does not know she is already his.
Five
Drake
Kedrov's establishment squats on a corner of the old Russian neighborhood like a relic from another era, all faded grandeur and stubborn pride.
The building itself is three stories of weathered brick with windows that glow warm amber against the unseasonably warm early October night.
A sign above the entrance readsTsarinain gilded Cyrillic script, the letters chipped and peeling in places that speak of age rather than neglect. This is a place that wears its history like armor, daring anyone to question its right to exist.
And I plan on doing just that.
Luca parks the car half a block away, and we sit in silence for a moment, watching the front entrance. Two men in dark suits flank the door, their postures loose but their eyes sharp. Professional muscle. The kind that knows how to hurt people efficiently and doesn't lose sleep over it afterward.
"Interesting crowd," Luca observes, his dark eyes cataloguing the patrons filtering in and out. Men in expensive coats escortingwomen whose smiles don't reach their eyes. A cluster of younger guys with the hungry look of soldiers trying to climb ranks. An older couple who move with the particular caution of people who know exactly what kind of establishment they're entering and have made their peace with it.
I recognize one of the men near the entrance. Broad shoulders, boxer's nose, a scar that bisects his left eyebrow. He was at the docks tonight, standing behind Sergei Markov during our conversation about missing shipments.
I pull out my phone and snap a picture for later.
"Kedrov’s network runs deeper than I thought." The words come out flat, but my mind is already spinning through implications. Victor Kedrov isn't just a predatory money lender with delusions of grandeur anymore. He’s acting on his wishes. I now have proof he's connected to the factions that have been testing Syndicate territory. The same factions that thought Magnus Sterling's death and the chaos at the church left us vulnerable.
They were wrong then. They're about to find out how wrong they still are.
"You want backup? Kon would love to get in on this." Luca asks, though something in his tone tells me he already knows the answer.
"No need. I want witnesses, though." I reach for the door handle. "We need people who will spread the word about what happens to men who touch things that belong to me."
Luca follows me out of the car. “Let the fun begin, then.”
The night air hits my face like a slap with the promise of rain. I button my jacket as I cross the street. Luca falls into step besideme, the briefcase of cash heavy in his grip. The two guards at the door straighten as we approach, hands moving toward the weapons I know are hidden beneath their jackets.
