Page 25 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

I swagger into Luca's office like I own the place, which, let's be honest, isn't too far from the truth when it comes to the streets we run. Luca's already got that 'I'm too old for this shit' look on his face, but he tolerates my charm because, deep down, he knows the balance it brings to our operation.

"Morning, sunshine," I greet him, flopping into a chair with all the grace of a cat claiming its throne. "How's our empire of shadows and secrets today?"

Luca doesn't miss a beat, his gaze still fixed on the report in front of him. "Darker and more secretive, thanks to you. Care to shed some light on this 'small incident' on the outskirts you so expertly 'handled'?"

I brush it off with a grin. "You know me, just keeping the streets safe for democracy and apple pie."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Roman, why wasn't I informed?"

Classic Luca, assuming I just forgot to loop him in. Normally, I'd throw some cocky remark his way, assure him it slipped my mind while I was too busy keeping the city from tearing itself apart. But this time, the usual deflections feel like lead in my mouth.

I shift uncomfortably. I'm not used to biting my tongue, not when it comes to Luca or anyone else. But this...this was different. Luca waits, he looks like his patience is running thinner by the second. The man could outwait a saint, I swear.

Finally, I bite the bullet. "I kept it to myself because I handled it," I admit, my voice a mix of defiance and a hint of something I can't quite place myself.

"Handled it how, exactly?"

"It was personal," I confess, each word tasting like ash. "Didn't want the mess to spill over to the rest of you."

"Personal," Luca repeats, rolling the word around like he's tasting a fine wine. "Since when do you handle things personally, Roman? You're the first to drag us into your brawls."

Luca’s patience, it seems, has a limit, and I can tell I'm dangerously close to crossing it. His gaze sharpens, a clear sign he's not buying the half-truths I'm selling.

"Roman, this isn't like you. Spill it."

Taking a deep breath, I know it's time to lay it all out, raw and unfiltered. "There's been chatter," I start, my voice steady despite the churn of unease. "Among the lower ranks. Talk about who's gonna be in charge when Lana—when she's out of the game for a bit, with the baby and all."

Luca's expression darkens at the mention of dissent within our ranks, but I push on. "They were questioning her authority, Luca. Saying the syndicate would be vulnerable with her 'laid up with a squawking brat.'"

The words taste bitter, echoing the disrespect and underestimation of Lana's strength. I can see the same anger reflected in Luca's eyes, a silent promise of retribution.

"I couldn't let that stand," I continue, the fire of my conviction burning away any remaining hesitation. "I took it as an attack on Lana, on us. So, I made it clear—that I'll be here to protect it. Our family, our syndicate. No matter what."

You made it clear?" he repeats, the calm in his voice belied by the storm brewing in his gaze. "And exactly how did you convey this message, Roman?"

There's no backing down now, no sugarcoating the truth of what I did. "I dealt with the dissenters," I admit, my tone as firm as my resolve at the time. "Made an example of them. It was the only way to ensure the message was loud and clear."

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with Luca's mounting fury and my unwavering stance. Finally, Luca speaks, his voice controlled but icy. "You took matters into your own hands. Without consulting me. Without considering the repercussions of your actions on the syndicate, on Lana."

His accusation stings, but I stand my ground. "It was a direct challenge to Lana's authority, Luca. To our stability. I did what was necessary to protect what we've built."

Luca rises from his seat, his presence commanding even in his anger. "What you see as protection, I see as recklessness. You think you've quelled dissent, but you may have just sparked fear. And fear, Roman, is a dangerous thing. It breeds more secrecy, more challenges."

I can see his point, the potential for my actions to spiral into consequences I hadn't fully considered. But at the moment, my focus was singular—defend Lana and our collective leadership.

"Would you have rather I let them plot against her? Against us?" I counter, frustration edging my words. "I made a decision, Luca. One I'd make again if it meant keeping Lana safe, keeping our syndicate secure."

"So, you're taking all the responsibility then?"

"If it means keeping Lana and everything we've worked for safe, then yes, I am," I retort, my conviction as solid as the ground beneath my feet.

Luca leans forward, his demeanor bordering on confrontational. "And what? You think you're going to be solely in charge if anything happens to Lana?" The suggestion is laden with disbelief, a hint of anger. "She's the leader, Roman. The three of us, we're meant to work together. It's not your place to run off half-cocked alone and then withhold information from me and Grigori."

His words, meant to rebuke, strike a nerve. It's the implication that I'm stepping out of line, assuming a role that isn't mine to claim, that rankles. But it's his failure to see the heart of my actions, the drive behind them, that truly ignites my temper.

"And if I'm the father of the next heir of this syndicate?" I snap back, the words slicing through the tension-charged air. "Doesn't that make it my place, Luca? Doesn't that give me the right to ensure the safety and continuity of what we've built?"

Luca falls into a heavy silence, his stare drilling into me, full of disbelief.

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