Page 72 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“Yuri sent over the preliminary list yesterday,” I continue. “Reznikov. Malysh. Orlov. Morozov. Another dozen who handled domestic movement before we integrated the networks.”

“I have it in front of me.”

Paper shifts faintly on his end. He takes his time reviewing the names.

“Reznikov can be reached through his brother,” Kalinin says. “Malysh has debts. Orlov’s daughter works in customs compliance, though I doubt she knows enough to be useful.” A brief pause. Then, “Morozov is dead.”

Morozov.

The operative who removed Tamara’s son from the hospital and raised him under another name.

I keep my voice neutral. “How?”

“Single-car accident. Eighteen months ago.”

“Any indication it was connected to the Colombians?”

“No. Weather and poor judgment. Nothing more interesting than that.”

Across the desk, Yuri’s gaze lifts briefly to mine.

“Then we’ll close him out.”

“The surviving household has already been assessed,” Kalinin adds smoothly. “The widow is a schoolteacher. There’s an adopted boy. Neither knew anything about Morozov’s work.”

Across the desk, Yuri’s attention sharpens. Kalinin didn’t need to search the file for those details.

He already knew them.

“The assessment is current?” I let the silence hold for a beat, then move on before my interest becomes visible. “Flag the names you consider vulnerable and send them back to Yuri.”

“Already doing it.”

Kalinin sounds unbothered. He has no idea he just confirmed that the Morozov household remains under observation. Or perhaps he knows exactly what he confirmed and assumes I’m intelligent enough to understand the boundary.

Either possibility is dangerous.

“And David?”

“Yes?”

“You sound very pleased with yourself.”

“I am pleased when an alliance functions as intended.”

The statement is mild. The warning beneath it isn’t. He knows what his infrastructure is worth to us. He expects that value to buy tolerance for everything else.

“Trust is a useful thing,” he continues. “Particularly between family.”

“You wouldn’t recognize trust if it walked into your office.”

Another quiet laugh. “And yet you keep answering my calls.”

I give him no reaction.

Then, “And my daughter? Has she…” He hesitates briefly, choosing words. “… adjusted to the arrangement?”

The room recedes.