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“I appreciate your loyalty to Emely,” the Dimitrio Rolanow continued. “Nevertheless, I hope you know that your pack needs help.”

Was he threatening me?

I looked at Mikhail, whose expression had mutated into an arrogant facade.

With every passing second, I disliked the guy more and more. And with every ridiculous second that the Russian continued to stare at me, the tension grew.

Welcome to the Copelands' powder keg. One might assume that this was a harmless dinner, but dining with the Russian Alpha was never without benefit for him.

“I know this isn't about Emely.”

And that was exactly the problem.

Emely should decide when and who she married, for fuck's sake. She was already at a disadvantage because she was a female Senseque who had to live under the rules of this patriarchal Code.

I thought I saw a twitch in the Alpha's eyebrow.

The tension now seemed to reach a peak.

“Emely will be taken good care of in Russia,” he eventually stated. “She will fulfill her duty, and in return, your Ruisangor problem…” He raised his wine glass, a superior smile playing on his lips. “…will vanish into thin air.”

Perhaps that was true. This family was the only one that could compete financially with the DeLoughreys. But something told me this Alpha didn't want to back the Copelands in their real estate war, but might start a whole new one.

And besides, what was in it for Emely, other than being uprooted? She wanted to be a lawyer. In Toronto. Not in Russia.

“What I'm trying to say, Kieran...” the Alpha continued, and I hated the way he pronounced my name. “An intelligent young man like you should know when to step aside and let others do their work.”

My ass.

I looked at the Alpha, stared at him, stared directly into his eyes.

I wasn't afraid of this man. Once I was able to break through the firewall of his underground empire, I had him in the palm of my hand. But unfortunately, that turned out to be more difficult than I had thought.

Just before I challenged an Alpha to a fight, according to the Codex, I broke eye contact.

That was the moment our Alpha returned and handed Dimitrio a bottle of vodka.

“I hope this one is satisfactory. I saved it from your last visit.”

I raised both eyebrows.

The bottle appeared dusty.

When had the Russians been here last? I couldn’t remember…

The Alpha sat down again, and Dimitrio admired the bottle as if it were a precious piece of gold.

“Dimitrio”

I looked past the Russian to another bald Russian in a black T-shirt. Tattoos peeked out from under his massive biceps. He was part of the Russian pack.

“An important business partner is calling,” said the man with a strong Russian accent, without changing his expression.

Dimitrio looked annoyed.

“Can't you see I'm eating?”

The bald man still didn't change his expression, but I could sense his nervousness in his next words.