Budimir Kovalyov doesn’t like quick, clean deaths.
When the time comes, I’ll make sure he’s repaid in kind.
I focus back on Anton, who’s staring at me with wide eyes.
He is scared of death, like any reasonable man. But he’s more scared of Budimir. Of the immediate threat to his family.
“I am not my uncle,” I tell him quietly. “I do not plan on earning loyalty with fear.”
“I may not have wanted to follow your uncle,” Anton says. “But I still cannot help you.”
I pause and look the man in the eye. He’s frightened, of course, but still proud. Still strong. He is not yet a lost cause.
So I take a chance.
I make a decision.
I lower my gun and put it away.
Somewhere in the afterlife, my father smiles proudly.
Put away the gun and use your brain, he once told me. I thought that was dumb advice then. And yet here I am.
“Listen to me, Anton,” I tell him. “Once I take back the Bratva, I will look after my men. That protection extends to their families.”
Anton tilts his head. Still cautious, but curious. Starting to sway, I think.
“I am no angel,” I continue. “When a man betrays me, he will pay for it. But I will not exact revenge on his family. On the innocent. That is not how I intend to lead.”
Anton closes his eyes for a moment. Weighing what I’m saying and what it means for him and his family.
“Fuck,” he says as he opens them.
That’s all it takes to tell me he’s made his choice. He’s chosen to follow the true don.
He’s chosen to follow me.
“I am not a part of the big meetings, the important ones,” Anton sighs, confirming what Maxim has already told me. “But I do know one thing that might be useful to you.”
“Go on.”
“He’s planning on initiating a don’s council meeting soon,” Anton tells me. “He wants to legitimize his claim, and to do that—”
“He needs to be recognized by the other dons as a don in his own right,” I finish.
Anton nods.
“When is this meeting?” I ask.
“A week from tomorrow,” he replies. “I don’t know when or where.”
“No, but I might.” I nod and tuck my gun away. “Thank you for this information.”
I turn to leave. My back is exposed and if there was ever a time to strike me down and rid himself of the anxiety of picking sides, it’s now.
But I have a feeling that his decision is firm.
Anton says nothing as I stride away. My hand is on the doorknob when I hear him call after me.