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“Is that wise?” She looked me in the eyes like she was studying something.

“It’s necessary.” I checked the weight of the pistol at my hip out of habit rather than doubt. “Someone needs to make the terms clear before this escalates any further than it already has. I’d rather it be me than leave the message to someone else who might not choose his words as carefully.”

She didn’t argue, though I saw the fear she was working hard not to show.

“Come back, Nikolai,” she said simply.

“I intend to.”

*****

Graham’s private casino sat beneath a legitimate entertainment venue three miles off the Strip, decorated in the gaudy excess of a man who confused wealth with taste. Armed men lined the entrance in suits expensive enough to look decorative rather than functional, though I recognized exactly what they were the moment I walked past them. I counted six on my way in.

Graham sat in a private lounge overlooking a card room, reclined in a chair upholstered in something that had probably cost more than most men’s cars, a drink already poured and waiting across from him like he’d anticipated my visit down to the hour.

“Nikolai Golovin.” He gestured at the empty chair with genuine warmth and the hospitality of a man who enjoyed performing civility because he had none. “I wondered how long it would take you.”

“I’ll skip the pleasantries.” I remained standing. “Stay away from my wife.”

He laughed like he was truly delighted. “Your wife published three articles that cost me two facilities and eleven fighters. I’d say I’ve shown remarkable restraint.”

“You called her personally. Threatened her directly. That ends today.”

“Then what?” He set his drink down, studying me with something between amusement and genuine curiosity. “You’ll stop interfering with my operations? Because that’s the actual trade you’re proposing, isn’t it? Leave your wife alone, and in exchange, you’ll stop dismantling everything I’ve spent a decade building.”

“Something like that.”

“Interesting.” He steepled his fingers. “You know, I’ve always found it fascinating, the way men like you dress up ambition as morality. Bratva. Organized crime with better tailoring. You launder money, you break legs, you’ve killed men who crossed you, and yet you sit here lecturing me about the ethics of my business as though yours is somehow cleaner.”

“My business doesn’t traffic children.”

“Your business simply hasn’t found it profitable yet.” He smiled, unbothered by my anger. “Don’t mistake restraint for morality, Nikolai. You’ve simply never needed what I offer.”

I felt my irritation building steadily beneath my composure. I forced it back down, one last time, and tried the only path that might end this without further bloodshed.

“I’ll offer you something,” I said. “Pull your operations back from my territory permanently. Return Mateo Alvarez to his sister, alive, and I’ll stop pursuing your networks entirely. We ignore each other’s existence.”

He tilted his head slightly, a smile on his face.

“Mateo Alvarez.” He said casually. “Stubborn as hell, from what I recall. Refused to throw a match my people needed him to lose, made things considerably more complicated than they needed to be.” He shrugged, the gesture almost bored. “He died in the ring during one of our private events. Three or four years ago now. These things happen when a fighter decides principle matters more than survival.”

The room went silent around me. I heard my own pulse in my ears like a roaring pressure building behind them.

“He’s dead,” I uttered, the casual air in his expression making it hard to immediately stab him with something even though I knew better.

“He’s been dead for years, Nikolai. One of countless others, really. I stopped keeping precise records on the ones who didn’t survive. Bad for morale, dwelling on it too much.”

Something in me broke free. I crossed the space between us, close enough that two of his guards shifted forward, hands drifting toward weapons they hadn’t yet drawn. I noted the movement distantly but didn’t step back.

“I will burn every operation you’ve ever built,” I said, my voice low and absolute, the words landing with a certainty I felt in my bones rather than my mind. “Every casino, every trafficking route, every fighter you’ve ever bought, sold, or disposed of when they stopped being useful to you. I will not stop until there’s nothing left of you but a name people use to warn their children.”

Graham’s amusement finally cracked into something colder.

“You should be careful making promises like that.” He stood slowly, straightening his jacket, all that pretense of hospitality gone entirely. “Your wife is pregnant, Nikolai. I know that too. When this war reaches its natural conclusion, I promise you she won’t be spared, and neither will whatever you two accidentally created together. I don’t fight fair. I never have.”

“If you touch either of them,” I said, “I will make certain your death takes considerably longer than it needs to.”

“We understand each other, then.” He smiled, the expression entirely without warmth, and gestured toward the door with an almost courteous motion. “I do so appreciate men who speak plainly. It makes the rest of this more efficient.”