Page 19 of Feral King

CHAPTER 6

JULIAN

Ethan is waiting for me in my office. In his hand and on my desk are glasses with two fingers of what appears to be bourbon.

But the look on his face makes it clear that this isn’t about celebration.

“The board meeting go as you anticipated?”

“Naturally.”

“Good, because we have other issues to worry about.”

I take the glass off my desk and regard it, but don’t sip. I’d rather hear the news with a clear head.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a seat.

“The Morozov situation,” he says, dropping into the chair across from my desk. “It’s worse than we thought.”

I say nothing, indicating for him to go on.

“Turns out that Morozov isn’t just backing Dobrov’s motion at the upcoming council. He’s actively brokering an alliance.”

“What kind of alliance? Who’s involved?”

“Dobrov, Morozov, and at least one other family whom we haven’t yet identified. That makes three votes against you out of the nine syndicate seats.”

“That’s still a minority.”

“It’s agrowingminority. A month ago, Dobrov had one vote—his own. Now he has three. That means if he manages to flip one more council seat, you’ll be looking at a contested leadership challenge. And it’ll have real teeth.”

I set the glass down and move to the window. Manhattan sprawls brightly below—glass, steel, and money.

The Volkov Bratva controls shipping corridors along the Eastern Seaboard, manages distribution networks for product moving through three continents, and launders it all through a web of real estate holdings, shell companies, and charitable foundations.

It’s intricate, complex. And it was nearly brought down by my incompetent half-brother.

For the past three years, I’ve been in Moscow, Beijing, and Manila, personally ensuring that our partnerships with the Triads and the Filipino syndicates didn’t collapse, while Alexander was off playing CEO.

Ethan was there with me the entire time, at every late-night meeting where death was on the line.

And we prevailed. We kept the machine running. But now that I’m home, the machine is already trying to chew me up and spit me out.

“The Chinese,” I say. “Where are we with Yang?”

“Mr. Yang has confirmed attendance at the council through his U.S. representative. The Triads are still willing to open their shipping routes to us.”

“I should hope so. That’s the deal we brokered.”

“Right. But Yang’s support is conditional on stability. If the Bratva’s own council can’t agree on who is in charge, they’ll walk.”

I grit my teeth, knowing what that means. “And if they walk, the Filipinos walk.”

“And that means the last three years were a goddamn waste.”

I sip my drink while I think it over.

“Dobrov doesn’t just need to unseat me,” I say, “he needs the council to fracture publicly. If he manages that, he can build on it, unseating me down the line when it’s demonstrated that I can’t bring in the deals I’d promised.”