“This meeting with Rodion has to happen,” I tell both of them. “We need to figure out where his head is at.”
“What if it’s a trap?” Lev asks.
“Not a chance,” Yulian says, still the naïve little boy that Otets used to shield from the world. “Rodion would never go against you so blatantly. He may have seniority, but you have the lion’s share of the power.”
“He’s been in power far longer than Anton has,” Lev points out. “And Rodion fights dirty. Always has.”
Yulian turns to me. “You really believe he’d put up a fight? For what?”
“For revenge,” I say simply. “If he really believes I killed Marina, then all bets are off.”
“We just gotta talk to the guy. He’ll see reason. He’ll believe us.”
I stare at my younger brother, marveling at how young he seems right now. Despite growing up in this world, he’s innocent, gullible.
Part of it is our father’s fault. Part of it is just who Yulian is.
Things have always come easy for him, and so he just assumes life will always go his way. He doesn’t realize that I’ve been there in the shadows the whole time, dragging obstacles out of his way so that he wouldn’t have to struggle the way I did.
Of course, Otets argued that my struggle was necessary in order to shape me into the kind of leader I had to become. Yulian escaped the hardships only because he didn’t have the burden of responsibility to deal with.
And yet sometimes, it’s hard not to be resentful.
“Someone wants a break between our Bratvas,” I say. “Probably the same person spreading the rumors. We need to find out who it is.”
“That’s a long list of suspects,” Lev warns.
“Better get to it, then. But first things first: we set up the meeting.”
“What do you have in mind?” asks Yulian.
“A dinner,” I say. “Civilized. Cordial. We need to remind Rodion about the relationship between our respective Bratvas. Show him that it’s in his best interests to continue our alliance. At least for now.”
Both of my right-hand men look up at me in surprise. “Huh?” they chorus in unison.
“I have no intention of sharing business interests with the Ivanovs for that much longer,” I explain. “Otets was foolish to twine our empires together. I plan on unraveling them as soon as possible.”
“Anton,” Yulian says, his mouth hanging open, “separating yourself from the Ivanovs should not be the goal.”
“What should?”
“Uniting the two Bratvas,” he says. “That was always the plan.”
“Yes—back when Marina was my wife and we were supposed to produce heirs together. Her death changed all that.”
“Call me crazy, but you sound relieved,” Yulian mutters.
“Maybe I am.”
Yulian and Lev exchange a glance, but I’m not interested in deciphering what each man thinks about this. I’ve made up my own mind where the Ivanovs are concerned.
I want to avoid war, but I no longer have any interest in continuing the interlocked alliance that my father started. It’s time for the Stepanov Bratva to go its own way.
And if Rodion doesn’t like that… he can fucking deal with it.
“You want me to look into venues for this dinner?” Yulian asks, getting to his feet eagerly.
“Get preliminary plans underway,” I tell him. “I’ll finalize them once you’ve got things organized.”