Page 159 of Ivory Oath

The call comes in at the exact minute Raoul said it would. He hands the phone to me. I trust that he’s ready to speak to his father, but I’m still pakhan. We’re breaking a lot of traditions today, but I should still be the head of this negotiation.

“Ruben,” I say in greeting. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has, Mikhail. Which is why I’m curious to know what this call is all about.”

Aside from the slight Colombian accent, he sounds so much like Raoul. If Raoul himself wasn’t standing next to me, I could be convinced I was talking to him on the phone.

“It’s always straight to business with you,” I remark. “Like father, like son in that respect.”

“Is my son there?” Ruben asks.

I hold the phone out to Raoul. It’s not a video call, but he still dips his head slightly in a show of respect. “Hello, Padre.”

“If the two of you are calling me together, I can’t assume it’s good news,” Ruben rumbles. “Whatever you think I’ve done, I promise you I haven’t. We’re at peace, Mikhail. Things got ugly last time. I have no desire to go back there again.”

“Ugly” is one word for the murder of my wife and child. Even the knowledge that Ruben wasn’t fully to blame for that particular war crime doesn’t take away the sting.

I clench my jaw. “This isn’t about a war, Ruben. I’m calling about peace. A deal, actually. Between the two of us.”

“Go on…”

“The deal is simple,” I explain. “I want to cede control of the entire Novikov Bratva to the Falcao Cartel.”

The silence is loaded. I imagine Ruben pulling his phone away from his ear to check who he called. After a few seconds, his voice crackles through the line. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not one for jokes, Ruben. I’m completely serious.”

“Then you’re insane.”

I shrug. “If I am, then you should take advantage of it. My insanity is going to make you the most powerful man in the Americas.”

I considered dissolving the Bratva. Tearing it apart piece by piece and scrapping it for parts. All of it felt messy. The power vacuum it created would be filled by someone, and I didn’t like the idea of not knowing who that would be. Or whether they would come for me to ensure I didn’t change my mind and want my Bratva back.

In the end, handing the Bratva over to Ruben felt right.

It’s what I should have done during the war ten years ago. But I didn’t know when to let go back then.

Now, I do.

There’s another long pause before Ruben breaks into a cackling laugh. “I always knew you were a crazy son of a bitch, Mikhail. I just never thought I’d be happy about it.”

After half an hour of back and forth and repeatedly assuring him I’m serious, Ruben and I have reached simple terms. He’ll own everything even tangentially connected to the Novikov Bratva—old grudges and enemies included—and I’ll make a clean break. I have no say over how he chooses to wield his new power and he doesn’t speak to me about his business ever again.

“What about my son?” Ruben asks. “What is Raoul going to do?”

I turn to Raoul. “What are you going to do, brother?”

As always, Raoul takes his time with the question. When he finally looks up, he’s smiling. “Whatever the fuck I want.”

The fluorescents lining the hospital hallways are still dimmed when Raoul and I make it back to Viviana’s floor, but her room might as well be a beacon.

Every light is on, including the lamp next to the bed, and Dante is directing a remote-controlled dinosaur across the tiles. He cackles every time the dinosaur disappears under the hospital bed only to reappear on the other side. Every time it falls over, it lets out a loud roar.

“Who gave him that?”

“Mistakes were made and regrets have been had,” Anatoly mutters from the corner beside the door. Based on the way he’s holding his arms, I think his fingers were shoved in his ears. “The kid was sad you two were in the hospital. What was I supposed to do, not buy him an extremely loud, obnoxious toy to make him feel better?”

Dante sees me and his eyes go wide. “Dad! You have to watch this.”

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