“Benyamin and his son will be a stark reminder to everyone else of what disloyalty costs. In the meantime, we’re in the market for a new arms dealer. I want that handled ASAP.”
Lev sighs. “I’ll have a list ready for you by tomorrow.”
“That still doesn’t solve our bigger issue,” Yulian reminds me, even though I’m ready to put the subject to bed for now.
I rub the bridge of my nose. I’m starting to get a headache. “The allies,” I mutter. “I’m aware.”
“Exactly,” Yulian agrees, “the allies. Loyalties will be split down the middle. The Ivanovs are big players, too, brother. As big as us, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“The Ivanovs are a tired old shitshow run by a tired old man who’s kept his wrinkled hands on the reins for far too long,” I snarl. “It’s time for Rodion to give up his crown.”
“That crown was supposed to be yours,” Yulian says.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Isn’t it still?” Lev asks. “Rodion never publicly said anything, other than that his daughter’s husband would inherit the Ivanov Bratva. You are still his daughter’s husband. Technically. Well, technically-ish.”
“What’s past is prologue,” I say. “None of it matters now. All that’s left is what’s coming. And what’s coming is war.”
Lev looks more intrigued than Yulian does, which in and of itself is alarming. My brother has always been the bloodthirsty one.
“You have reservations about how this will play out?” I ask Yulian.
“The Ivanovs have a lot of allies, Anton.”
“So do we.”
“Ivanov has been around for a lot longer than us, Anton. He’s got a big ass Rolodex and who-the-fuck-knows how much cash squirreled away. Money talks, brother. You know that.”
I snort. “If he can buy the loyalty of any one of my allies, then he’s welcome to them. What’s left of them when I’m finished, at least. No, I want real men at my back. Not turncoats who’ll try to stab me the moment my concentration has shifted.”
Yulian looks like he’s about to keep arguing, but then he wisely falls silent. Good. The pounding in my temples is getting worse and I’m done explaining myself to them.
“We’ll prepare,” Lev says shortly.
I glance at my brother. “Yulian?”
He nods, respectfully enough. “I will do whatever you ask me to. I am the younger brother, after all.”
I grimace as he invokes our father. Those were his last words to Yulian on his deathbed: Do whatever your brother asks of you. He is your don now. He’d been too weak at the end for more than a few labored sentences.
Yulian sighs. “Papa would know what to do if he were here.”
I stamp down the annoyance, but I can’t stop the words from escaping. “Our father is the man who started this shit in the first place.”
Yulian’s eyebrows knit together. He hates when I say anything remotely negative about our father, but he’s far too old and experienced now to keep pretending the man was a saint.
“How do you figure?”
“Elevating the Ivanovs? Sharing power, assets, and business?” I say. “It was a foolish decision based on a foolish friendship. How could he have been sure that his friendship with Rodion would translate to their sons or their successors?”
“He was counting on your marriage to Marina to seal the deal,” Yulian bites out. “I can’t see how you lay the blame for that debacle at his feet, brother.”
My eldest son. Rodion’s only daughter. The final link to join our two kingdoms forever.
I scoff in my head. As it turned out, it was more like the final nail in his own coffin.
“He was a fool,” I say bluntly. “A fool to think I could be distracted by a pretty face and miss the vile bitch that lurked underneath it.”