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“Answers come to those who are patient,” I declare. “And above all else, loyal.” I let the word sit for a moment. “Beatrice Zanetti was never pregnant with my heir. It was Wren all along. Anyone who says a word against her is a dead man walking. Is that understood?”
All my vors slam their closed fists against their chests—a sign of obedience and fealty. It’s an Old World gesture, brewed in blood, which is why it carries the weight it does.
“Can I count on you?” I ask them collectively.
They keep pounding their chests until they’ve created a chorus that reverberates off the walls of Egorov Industries’ basement. I make sure my gaze sears through every single one of my men. I want them to know I’m in control.
That I’m watching.
I can’t afford to close my eyes now.
17
DMITRI
I can hear Aleks shuffling around behind me as my vors file out of the room. All that’s left of Gennady is a deep red stain on the cement floors. That’s going to need a special clean-up crew before the floors are spotless again.
One thing about running a Bratva in the basement—the housekeeping never ends.
Ignoring my brother, I pick up my phone and call Locksmith. “Been a while since I got a call from you,” the hacker’s voice chirps in computer-modulated tones. “I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”
Grinding my teeth together, I remind myself that Locksmith has an important role to play. Keeping them happy is tops on my priority list. “How could I, when you make so much fucking noise all the time?”
All I hear for a moment is faint, staticky chuckling. “I’m guessing you’re not calling to ask about my workout regimen, so what can I do for you, oh blessed liege?”
“I need some target sourcing so I can interrupt the Irish cash flow. New ventures, something vulnerable and ripe.”
“Getting antsy, are we?”
“It’s time to cut them off at the legs. I’m not fucking around anymore.”
“You really want to antagonize Cian at this stage? When the Italians are?—”
“I made you my hacker,” I interrupt coldly. “Not my vor. If I want lessons on strategy, I’ll ask for it. Until then, do the job I hired you to do.”
The inevitable snort comes, impatient and annoyed. “Very well. I will do your bidding like the lap dog I so clearly am to you. I’ll have the info to you within the hour. Two, tops.”
Rolling my eyes, I hang up and turn to find that Aleks is still pacing. Right over the spot where Gennady had his brains blown out.
When he hears me end the call, he meets my gaze and stops pacing. “Do you really think that was a good move? Slaughtering one of your own in front of everyone?”
“Do you really consider that a smart question to ask?” I lob back.
“I’m just saying?—”
“He was a stone’s throw from moving against me. I saw a problem and I took care of it.” I stare down my brother until he looks away. “And I don’t need anyone’s permission to do it.”
“No, not permission,” Aleks acquiesces. “But what about advice? Your vors exist to temper your worst impulses and give you counsel. Do you think any of them are going to be willing to speak up now if you insist on killing the ones that do?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I spit. “He wasn’t advising me; he was questioning me. There’s a difference.”
He sighs and wilts. “I know, I know. Fuck, I know. Gennady needed to be dealt with, but?—”
“When did you become such a scared old woman?”
He bares his teeth at me. “Alienating your inner circle will end your reign sooner than you’d like, Dmitri.”
“My reign is only just beginning, little brother. You think I’m worried about any one of those men? They’re loyal—and the ones that aren’t will die the same way that Gennady did. Consider today a lesson.”
