He looks up at me. Considers. Redirects his attention to his bread roll instead and begins pulling it apart.
“He has your eyes, Razvan,” Viktor says, his voice warm, draped in the easy affection of a favorite uncle. He sits to my left, leaning back with a glass of vintage red. He reaches over and playfully ruffles Theo’s hair. “And clearly, he inherited the Volkov’s appetite for destruction.”
Theo looks up, giving Viktor a bright, toothy grin before returning to his fortress. “It’s a castle, Uncle Viktor. For the dragons.”
“Naturally,” Viktor chuckles, his gaze moving to Lena. There’s no malice in his eyes, only a weary kind of wisdom.
But across the table, the atmosphere is curdling. Grigori, the senior Vor of the Sokolova branch, hasn’t touched his wine. He’s staring at Lena as if she’s a stain on the tablecloth.
“A castle for dragons,” Grigori rumbles, his voice like grinding stones. “A pity the boy’s maternal blood comes from a man who burned his own house down. We are sitting at a table with the daughter of a traitor. Sokolova didn’t just steal, he tried to gut the Volkov line from the inside. Why the girl is sitting in the seatof a queen instead of a cell is a question the council is asking, Razvan.”
The air in the room vanishes. I feel the phantom itch of the blade at the small of my back. My hand twitches toward Lena’s, my protective instinct a snarling beast I can barely leash. I start to lean forward, my jaw locking as I prepare to remind Grigori exactly whose father he’s insulting in my house.
“Now, now, Grigori,” Viktor intercedes, his tone light but carrying the weight of a gavel. He holds up a hand, silencing the table. “Let us not be primitive. The sins of the father are a heavy burden, yes, but we do not punish the daughter for a man’s madness. Lena is a Volkov now. She carries the name, she carries the heir, and she carries the Pakhan’s favor. That should be enough for any of us.”
Viktor looks at me and offers a small, supportive nod. I feel a surge of genuine gratitude. He’s smoothed the edge I was about to sharpen into a bloodbath. I relax my shoulders, just an inch, and offer him a tight, appreciative smile.
“Viktor is right,” I say, my voice level. “The past is ash. We are here to discuss the future. And the future requires a trip to St. Petersburg.”
I feel Lena go still beside me. She stops pretend-eating and shifts her focus to me.
“The northern territories are wavering,” I continue, looking down the table at the seniors. “The shipment delays are no longer ‘logistical errors.’ They are tests. I will be heading there at the end of the week to remind the Petrov circle why the serpent still bites.” I pause, my gaze sliding to the woman at my side.“Lena will be accompanying me. The North needs to see the unity of this house.”
The table erupts into low murmurs. Lena’s hand finds the linen napkin in her lap, her fingers twisting the fabric.
“And the boy?” Grigori asks, his eyes darting to Theo, who is now trying to feed a piece of bread to an imaginary dragon.
“Theo stays here,” I say firmly. “Under the protection of Lyosha and a double-strength detail. This compound will be a fortress. Nobody enters, nobody leaves.”
The dinner ends in a blur of forced pleasantries and political posturing. By the time we are in the back of the SUV, the silence is a physical pressure, vibrating between us as the gates of the compound click shut behind us.
I watch the streetlights strobe over Lena’s face. She’s staring out the window, her silhouette sharp and lonely against the glass.
“You’re doing that thing again,” she says. Her voice isn’t soft; it’s brittle.
“What thing?”
“The ‘Pakhan’ thing. Deciding my itinerary without a word to me. Deciding who guards my son while I’m three hundred miles away.”
“It’s not an itinerary, Lena. It’s a necessity. St. Petersburg is a snake pit. If I leave you here, you’re a target. If I take you with me, you’re an asset. And Theo… Theo is safest with Lyosha. You know that.”
“I know that Lyosha would die for him,” she says, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes are wide, haunted by the memory of themen at that table. “But I also know that every time you ‘guard’ me like you did tonight, you’re just putting a bigger bullseye on my back. You were practically snarling at Grigori. You think you’re being strong, but you’re showing them exactly where to hit you.”
“I was presiding over my table,” I snap, the irritation flaring. “I won’t apologize for making it clear that you are untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Razvan, I’m the daughter of the man who killed your father. I’m the ‘traitor’s girl.’ The only reason I’m ‘untouchable’ is because you’re standing in the way. What happens when you have to turn your back to deal with the Petrovs?”
I reach across the seat, my hand catching her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze. The interior of the car is a shadow-play of amber and black. “Then I trust that the woman who was trying to break Lyosha’s ribs this morning knows how to use a knife.”
She bites her lip—that small, frantic movement that always makes my pulse kick. “Lyosha and his men…they’ll really stay with him? Every second?”
“On my life, Lena. My men will protect Theo with their lives. I would burn the North to the ground before I let a single shadow fall over that boy. You have to believe that.”
She leans into my hand, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. The defiance is still there, but it’s layered under a crushing weight of maternal terror. “He’s so small,” she whispers. “He doesn’t know why the men at the table look at us that way.”
“He doesn’t need to know,” I say, my voice softening as I slide my hand into her hair, pulling her closer until the scent of herpeonies and sweat fills my head. “That’s what the dragons are for,zayka. To keep the monsters under the bed.”
I pull her flush against me, my heart thudding a heavy, irregular rhythm. She doesn’t push away. She grips the lapels of my suit, her forehead resting against my collarbone.
