Page 54 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“He’s useful.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

No, it wasn’t.

Yuri sets another file onto the table. “Kalinin requested updated collector security schedules for the Milan transfers.”

Still working, still delivering, still acting like a civilized businessman instead of a man who weaponized his own daughter’s grief.

I look down at the schedules without really seeing them.

She knows her son lived. She’s known since before the cathedral—that’s what put her there. What she doesn’t have is where he is.

I do.

I know Tamara well enough by now to understand exactly what happens the moment those two pieces connect. She won’t hesitate. She won’t negotiate. She won’t explain herself or ask permission or wait for a better moment.

She’ll take her son and disappear, and she’ll burn whatever she has to on the way out.

Including this.

The rational decision is to keep her contained until the boy is secured on my terms. Control the timeline. Control the information. Control the exit.

As if withholding the truth has not already made the terms mine.

Fifteen years of survival in this world has been built on exactly that logic. But I’m not going to be a man who keeps Tamara small because it’s convenient for him.

“Expand Tamara’s movement clearance,” I say finally.

Igor lets that sit.

“Office too?” Yuri asks.

“Yes.”

“Driver rotation?”

“Permanent.”

“Site coverage?”

“Approved.”

Then Igor says, “That’s not caution anymore.”

I meet his gaze evenly. “It’s correction.”

His expression shifts at that. He knows what I’m giving her. He knows I know what I’m giving her.

Neither of us says it out loud.

The meeting dissolves twenty minutes later into route approvals and collector insurance discussions. By the time I leave the office, Manhattan has disappeared beneath rain and early darkness.

The apartment is warmer when I walk in. I notice it before I’ve taken off my coat. The lighting in the entryway has softened. One of the chairs near the windows is angled differently. Books are stacked beside the sofa instead of perfectly aligned.

Evidence of another person living here. Not passing through.

I don’t examine why I don’t mind.