The Bratva was not a man. It was not me, or my father before me, or the name above the door. It was infrastructure—routes, assets, loyalty, the distinct understanding that the organisation would outlast any individual within it. Our enemies were counting on the opposite. They were counting on the head falling and the body following.
More would spring forth.
That was what they needed to understand.
??????
I calmly shook open my napkin before I spoke.
“I don’t care if she has eaten. Tell her to come downstairs,” I told Spartak.
He hovered for a millisecond before he vanished.
I cut into my steak, dipping the meat into the sauce before eating the forkful slowly. The dining room held its usual quiet—one place setting, the good crystal, the cold stillness of a room that had been arranged for one and would stay that way.
Iskra pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, glaring at me before her eyes dropped to my food. Her hair fell in waves down her back. The severity of the black pyjamas made it stand out—and then the pink flamingos undermined the severity entirely, in a way that was entirely her without her knowing it.
A glance at the doorway confirmed it. Everybykiin the vicinity, plus Tau, arranged in the corridor like an uninvited audience.
“Close the door,” I snapped.
The last thing I wanted was for them to witness her insolence.
Her smug smile toward them was noted as she pulled her chair back and sat opposite me. Her eyes moved over my plate again and I nodded toward hers. She lifted the cover with a sigh before taking her fork. It wasn’t the meat she stabbed at but the buttery baked potato—the specific yellow-fleshed variety, sweet against the peppery steak.
Her eyes flashed up as she swallowed and lifted her knife.
“You called,” she said flatly, cutting into her steak.
It wasn’t cooked as rare as mine, but it was a good source of iron and protein nonetheless.
“How was your appointment?”
“Fine,” she said, not looking up.
I paused to take a sip of wine.
“Do you want to try again?”
“Would you like a blow by blow account?” she asked pleasantly.
“An overview would suffice,” I gritted out.
“Everything is fine and they will get back to me with the tests,” she said, reaching for her wine.
“Just remember the foetus clause,” I said, placing my glass on the table with more force than I intended.
She set her cutlery on her plate with deliberate precision and unfolded her napkin to dab her lips.
“I understand the terms.” She stood, her voice steady and cool as a closing argument.“Since conception has taken place I suggest you remain in your own bedroom from now on.”
She tossed the napkin onto her plate and walked.
She was halfway to the door when I managed to gather my wits.
“There are plenty of women available to me,” I said, my voice harder than I intended.
“Good for you.” She yanked the door open without turning.“I never expected anything else from you, Pakhan.”
