Page 5 of Black Ledger

And it appeared my father was knee-deep in things he shouldn’t be.

“Not to ask the obvious question, but who stands to benefit the most from Aleksandr’s disappearance?” Roman Balinsky shifted his weight in his seat.

I fixed my glower on him. He was generally neutral, but that question was a missile launched directly at me.

Leon let out a low chuckle. “It would be Severin, wouldn’t it?”

The room went silent as my glare landed on Leon first and then Roman. No words were needed. My gaze traced the outlines of their bodies like chalk at a crime scene. My movement was deliberate and slow.

No one moved. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped forty degrees, as if I could control it. I, of course, couldn’t. This was no fairytale.

This was a cold, deadly reality.

I didn’t need to say anything. The silence spoke for itself, but I decided to engage anyway. I dragged my thumb across the rim of my glass without drinking from it, as if dragging a knife along their throats. “Say that again.”

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze landing on every man in the room in turn.

“I hope you did not just accuse me of cutting off my own father’s cock, wrapping it up in a pretty box, and sending it to myself.”

Roman visibly gulped, and Leon lifted his lips into a smile, his hands rising in surrender. “Of course not, Pakhan.”

These men were not nearly afraid enough. Perhaps they needed a reminder. “Severed cocks are not my style.”

I wanted to rule with loyalty. I wanted respect and trust, but if I had to, I would eliminate everyone in my path. I would hunt, torture, and slaughter anyone in my way. I didn’t need to mention what I had done to the Caruso family and how I continued to hunt them for killing Xeniya. They knew.

Everyone knew.

I had a garden full of heads for a reason.

And as they looked at me right now, I could see it in their eyes; they were remembering the horrific things I had done to the Italians. I skinned one alive over three months. I burned another from the inside out. And on and on it went.

Xeniya may have died in an instant, but I made it my job to make every man responsible for the explosion that killed her die as slowly as possible. My current prisoner had been in my basement for the last three weeks, and I liked to take a chunk out of him every night, when possible.

I was patient. I was thorough.

Two traits I shared with this ghost.

“Neither Severin nor I had any motive to kill Aleksandr,” Mikhail said sternly. “Both of us were extremely happy running our sectors and becoming unreasonably wealthy, and neither of us particularly wanted to take over dealing with you all.”

Mikhail Volkov, my ever-loyal brother, leaned back in his chair and adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate precision.

I nodded at him, acknowledging his support. Mikhail was quiet, but when he spoke, everyone listened.

“Are we sure it isn’t the Italians?” Nika cut the tension with the question everyone, including me, was now pondering.

For the most part, the other four Italian families kept out of our feud with the Carusos because they were the rogue sector of the Italian mafia, and besides, my retaliation was merited. They killed my uncle Viktor Volkov, the second in command of the Bratva, and Xeniya in the explosion at Viktor’s restaurant thirteen years ago. My retaliation was slow but understandable.

But perhaps the other families were getting fed up with my hunt. Perhaps they were stepping in.

“If it were the Italians, they would have claimed it,” Dimitri said. “I reached out to my contacts, and none of them seemed to think it was them. Not even my connection with the Carusos.”

“Whoever it is, we need war, Severin,” Leon growled. “We must not show weakness. We must attack with the full weight of the Bratva.”

“Which would be nice if we knew who was responsible,” Grigori Larin said. “A ghost is attacking us.”

Aside from the Morozovs, Grigori was my most loyal brigadier. Leon wished Mikhail were in charge, and the rest were opportunists, and the old guard supported whoever had the most power at the moment.

Kazimir Kaloshin let out a sound of agreement. “The ports are already impacted by this ghost. My men are disappearing monthly. Which, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, causes disrupted routes, compromised deliveries, port delays, shipment risks, and exposure of our movement channels.” His gaze locked on mine. “You need to get your house in order.”