I raise an eyebrow. “My boy?”
Ivan’s smile widens, teasing now. “Come on. You know what I mean. Now that you’re pakhan, the old man’s gone, the family is consolidating… it’s time to think about settling down. A boy at your side. Someone to warm that empty bed. Produce heirs. Strengthen alliances. You can’t run everything alone forever.”
“There is no boy, as you well know,” I say, my voice flat.
I set my cup down with deliberate calm. The suggestion irritates me more than it should. “I have no interest in finding ‘someone.’ My next and most important quest is to find the man—or men—who put a bullet in my father’s chest. True vengeance. Nothing else matters until that debt is paid in full.”
Ivan’s expression sobers instantly.
He respects my father deeply; everyone who has dealt with the old pakhan has.
“I want to help,” Ivan says. “Your father was a man of honor in his own way. Ruthless, yes, but he kept his word. If there’s anything I can do… information, contacts, a quiet blade… I’m in.”
I meet his gaze and give a short nod. “Thank you, Ivan. I will take you up on that. Your skills are…precise. The kind I like to work with.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the unspoken hanging between us. Vengeance is not just personal; it is necessary. The city needs to see that the new pakhan is not soft, not grieving in a way that leaves him vulnerable.
The hit on my father was bold—on our own territory, in broad daylight almost. Whoever ordered it has to be reminded, loudly and permanently, that crossing the Antonov family carries a death sentence.
I finish my espresso and signal for another. “It’s time to show the city that the new pakhan is never,everto be crossed,” I say. “Whispers are already circulating. Some think the family is weakened. We will correct that impression.”
Ivan leans forward slightly. “Any leads yet on the shooter? Or who sent the shooter?”
“Nothing concrete. The gunman escaped too cleanly.Professional. But every professional leaves a trail if you look long enough. The coffee shop owner has been… encouraged to remember more details. My father’s surviving guard is stillrecovering, but when he’s able, he’ll talk. And I have people watching the Italians, the Mexicans, even some of our own who might have grown too ambitious.”
Ivan nods. “Smart. Start close to home, then expand. I know a few ghosts in the underworld who owe me favors. I can make enquiries.”
“Do it quietly for now,” I say. “No fireworks until we have a name. When we do… the response will be memorable.”
The conversation shifts to lighter operational matters—shared supply lines that can be optimized under the new pact, a troublesome lieutenant in one of Viktor’s crews who might need reining in.
Ivan is sharp, loyal in his own detached way. Having him as an ally eases some of the pressure that has settled on my shoulders since the funeral.
Yet even as we speak, my thoughts drift once more to the edges of control. To the gym. To Teddy’s flushed face and the way his small, strong body moves with disciplined grace on the shoulder press machine. The way he looks at me… not with fear exactly, but with a mix of surprise and something warmer.Forbidden.
I crush the thought immediately. Teddy is staff now. Temporary. Bobby’s trainer and nothing more. Any other ideas are a luxury I cannot afford. Distractions lead to mistakes. Mistakes lead to graves.
My father taught me that lesson well, even if he grew softer toward the end.
I pay the bill in cash—generous tip included—and stand. Ivan rises with me.
“Keep me updated,” I say. “And thank you again for the offer of help.”
“Always, pakhan.”
We shake hands firmly. Outside, the city bustles under a gray sky. My SUV waits at the curb, engine idling. As I slide into the back seat, I allow myself one final glance toward the café before the door closes.
Vengeance first.
The family’s dominance second.
Everything else—boys, softness, the tempting image of a bright-eyed trainer who smells like pre-workout and optimism—comes nowhere on the list.
Still, as the car pulls into traffic and the Gothic spires of the city rise around us, I cannot quite shake the memory of his voice stumbling over my name.
“Teddy,” I murmur under my breath, testing it.
No. Dangerous territory.
