Page 29

“Because marks that are declarations usually reference something,” I say. “A history, a lineage, a claim. If it’s not a known criminal faction, it might be something older than the current structure.”

He studies me. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“I’ve been in lockdown for two hours with nothing to read but a novel I don’t care about,” I say. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, weighing it. Then he says, “Old Bratva symbol. Pre-Crown. Before the five families were what they are now, there were factions using the wolf-crown. Forty, fifty years back. Most of them got swallowed up or taken out when the Crown formed.”

“Most,” I say.

“Most,” he confirms.

“So someone’s making a claim,” I say. “Not sending a message to the current Crown. Asserting a prior right.”

He leans back. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“It’s the right way.” I hear the certainty in my own voice a half second before I can dial it back. He catches it, I see the slight sharpening in his face that means he’s added it to whatever he’s been building about me. I take the book back up.

“How do you know you’re on the right path?” he asks.

“Because the targets don’t make sense as messages,” I say, keeping my eyes on the page. “A twenty-two-year-old hanger-on and a mid-level financial operator. If you’re sending a message to the Crown kings, you don’t pick those targets. You pick someone close to power. Someone visible. These are supporting pieces, not principals.”

“Go on,” he says.

I look up. He’s watching me with full attention now, the phone forgotten on the table. His eyes are locked on mine, his focus fully on me. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the level of attention he’s giving me, but he listens like it’s an interrogation and a conversation simultaneously.

“If you’re making a claim,” I say, “you don’t start at the top. You start at the edges. You demonstrate reach. You show that you can touch the structure without triggering a full response, because the kings won’t mobilize over a hanger-on and a mid-level financial man. Not yet. You’re establishing presence before you establish threat.”

Volkov is very still.

“That’s a patient play,” he says.

“It’s a lawyer’s play,” I say. “Build the record before you make the argument.”

“Or a long game,” he says. “Someone who’s been waiting a long time and knows how to wait more.”

We sit with that for a moment. The room is smaller than it was an hour ago and I’m not sure when that happened.

“The financial man,” I say. “What exactly did he handle for the DeLuca subsidiary?”

“Why?”

“Because the first victim was peripheral and the second had access to money flows,” I say. “That’s not random. It points to a pattern.”

Volkov picks up his phone, sends a message, then puts it back down. “I’ll find out.”

“Don’t tell me why you’re asking,” I say.

He looks at me. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.” I go back to the book.

We sit in silence for another twenty minutes, the sweep still running outside. At some point, Volkov leaves to make coffee, then returns in ten minutes and puts a cup on the table beside me. He already knows how I take it. He watched me at breakfast.

“You walked in here knowing nothing about any of this,” he says, out of nowhere.

“Correct.”

“Nearly three weeks in and you’ve mapped my estate, run an operation against my own people, and just broke down an active investigation better than half my guys could.” He looks at me. “What the hell were you before all this?”