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Hushed murmurs whip around the table and then fade, minimizing to silence once more.
When I’m satisfied that they’ve calmed down enough, I say, “That means my wife needs around-the-clock protection. I want three men with her at all times. Even if it’s to the doctor. Or when she’s with Willow. Or when she’s with me.”
Every brigadier in the room nods.
I clear my throat and tap the folder. “Cardona and Kiril might make an attempt on her life. Our child is the key to the Citta Nostra throne. We can’t afford to lose that, understand?”
“Yes, Pavel Sergeyevich!”
I smile. “Great. Now for old business.” I plop the folder open. “As we discussed recently, we’ve halted the gallery operation. That’s merely a temporary measure while we try to dig up the good stuff.”
I look at Stepan, who nods and turns to the others. “We’re focusing on the NYPD network, trying to root out the dirty cops. We’ll need to double our surveillance and keep a tight watch.”
“Don’t stray away from the predetermined areas,” I instruct. With a firmer voice, I add, “Even if you need to take a piss. I don’t give a fuck if you have to piss your pants. We can’t afford any more fuckups.”
All eyes fall on the empty chair.
Anger rises in me briefly, a tide that I’ve been fighting off since Volodya was murdered in the custody of those pigheaded fuckers downtown. I take a second to gather my strength, showing my boys exactly what they need to see.
A leader in
A powerful leader who can manage any setback.
A Pakhan.
I shrug my shoulders and continue, “Once we figure out the network, we can make one attack to wipe them out. That means we’ll need to stockpile weapons.”
Muscle memory takes over as I inform Kostya which weapons to prioritize. The other brigadiers listen intently while Stepan stands up to refill his coffee. I notice he checks his gun on the other side of the room.
Even he isn’t aware of what I’m doing behind closed doors.
I need decoys. And lots of them.
Part of the stockpile will be stripped of its firing pins to root out any potential defectors. Though I’m hoping Stepan isn’t among them, I can’t risk assuming he isn’t.
It’s a risk I can’t afford to take.
Anyone who’s thinking about betraying their Bratva or me will have to answer to more than just me. Having an heir to the throne gets the blood boiling and encourages the soldiers to defend their king. What better way to secure their allegiance than to give them hope that the plan we’ve outlined is getting back on track?
We’ll win this war. Even if it means losing a few more of them.
“That’s all for today,” I say when I’m done. “Dismissed.”
Kostya tucks the list I’ve given him into his pocket and follows the others to the door. More congratulations surround me as some of my brigadiers come up to shake my hand. I’m proud that I have their support, even with the possibility of a mole—or two—living in our midst.
I just hope it’s not true.
Stepan is the last to leave. The door clicks shut, reminding me of the next task I have on the list. My day is hardly over—yet all I can think about is running upstairs to check on Liya. As I tug my phone from my pocket, the mental image of her expression returns to me at full blast.
She looked sohappy.
The thought strengthens me as I listen to the line trill in my ear. Kiril should pick up any second. And when he does, I’ll say the phrases I practiced with Liya.
Public speaking comes naturally to me. Many of my meetings involve speaking at a moment’s notice to my brigadiers or to complete strangers. It’s familiar territory, the type of challenge that makes me move forward with confidence.
But hearing the endless trill of the line makes my heart thump hard in my chest.
I end the call and set the phone on the desk, staring at the screen.
