Page 37 of Dark King Daddy

I looked back at Lev.

His grip on my wrist had weakened.

“Father.”

He studied my face.

Perhaps he saw a son. Perhaps only the heir he had spent decades building. With Lev, the two had always been difficult to separate.

“Hold them together, Danya.”

“I will.”

His fingers tightened once.

“Pakhan.”

The word left him with his last breath.

His hand slipped from my wrist.

I kept pressure on the wounds.

Pointless.

My body did not accept what my mind knew. I pressed harder. Blood moved around my fingers. Lev’s eyes stayed open, fixed on a point beyond my shoulder.

“Father.”

Nothing.

I had imagined his death before. Any heir did. A hospital. A rival’s bullet. His heart failing behind the desk where he had ruled for most of my life.

I had imagined standing beside the chair and taking the weight from him in an orderly transfer.

I had not imagined kneeling in his blood while Mikhail Orlov’s daughter knelt in her father’s.

The room filled with footsteps.

Arkady entered first, weapon drawn. Nikita came behind him. Two of our men followed and stopped at the threshold.

Arkady saw Lev.

His face emptied.

Then it filled with violence.

“Who?”

“Leonid Gusev,” Anton said.

Arkady turned toward the rear passage.

“He’s gone,” Anton added. “For now.”

“We seal the streets,” Arkady said. “Every Orlov vehicle. Every Orlov man in this building.”

Anton stood.