Page 11 of Dragon 7

In fact, he had probably known about the clinic fire before I'd stepped inside it. And then, the Lion sat somewhere with a cigar and a glass of vodka, waiting for me to break.

I frowned. “Good evening, Kazimir.”

“But, is it a good evening for you?”

You fucking asshole.

Before I could shape the ask in my mouth, the Lion began to speak. "There is a history of fathers and sons fighting on opposite sides of war. Did you know that?"

Goddamn it. I don’t have time for a fucking history lesson.

I closed my eyes for half a second. “Kazimir—”

"The English Civil War had fathers loyal to the king while sons joined Parliament. Entire bloodlines tore themselves apart because the younger generation refused to inherit the old world quietly."

Sighing, I checked my watch.

"Then came the Wars of the Roses. Fathers sacrificing sons. Sons betraying fathers. Families consuming themselves in pursuit of power while pretending it was honor."

A long pause came from his line. He was savoring this. Of course, he was. He had probably been rehearsing this speech for twenty fucking minutes and getting hard.

"And the Ottomans. . .ah. They understood it best of all."

I rolled my eyes. “And what did they understand, Kazimir?”

"That the father and heir cannot coexist forever. Most dynasties fear admitting that truth, but history repeats it endlessly."

“That’s morbid if you want to have sons.”

“No. My son will know from the first day he can walk that he will replace the Lion and sit on the throne. And my daughter will be her own queen and travel around the world with me during my retirement.”

“Why not let your daughter rule?”

“Thrones are too sharp for feminine flesh. Why would I give that life to her? No. It is better that my son take it.” His voice softened. "But that is not important. I doubt I will ever have kids. The interesting thing about history is that the sons almost always won."

My hand tightened on the phone.

Many feared the Lion because he bombed and killed with no care for bloodshed. They saw his violence as erratic and unpredictable. However, I knew that he was an intellectual predator, and that scared me most of all.

"The sons won not because they were stronger, but because they adapted. Old kings rule through fear, tradition, and isolation. Sons survive through alliances.”

He let the silence stretch and then spoke, “They create loyalty. Emotional debts. Coalitions. History favors ambitious sons willing to burn the old kingdom down." A long beat came and then he finally stopped the foreplay and went in for the kill. "Tell me, Kenji. Are you a son willing to burn down the kingdom?"

I ignored that question. "Your Mosquito knows where my father is. I want you to bomb the hotel."

"There is a price to making the Mosquito buzz and the Lion roar." His voice carried a hum of pleasure. "Are you prepared to pay it?"

"Name it."

"You already know what I want."

Yeah, but I hoped you would ask for something else.

The Russians already had their grips on lots of places throughout the world, but Asia was still impossible due to the fact that outsiders could never be too comfortable here.

"A seat at the table is impossible." I shrugged. "You know it. The families would tear my throat out before they let me put a Russian at the table."

“But, you’re the Dragon—”