Page 188 of Silenced

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON

Business isthe last thing on my mind, but today’s gathering is more important than I’m comfortable with.

The outcome…

Blyad, everything rests on this meeting.

As my Brigadiers settle into their seats around the board table, I watch them with an intensity they’re not used to.

It takes their triumphant posturing down a notch, but that wasn’t my intention.

Instead, I’m checking for potential weak spots.

For men who’ll flee when I tell them what’s about to happen—the lay of the land is about to shift toward the west.

I’m just not sure who’ll survive the cull because anyone who walks out of here won’t get far.

That’s why Igor’s standing in one corner, Semion the other. Men who’ve alreadyshownme where their fealty lies.

When the Brigadiers are seated, I stand.

Neither Pavel nor Dmitri are here, and it’s my first meeting as Pakhan without one or both in attendance.

It isn’t lonely at the top, but fuck if communicating won’t be hard.

As my men stare at me, the first thing I declare is, “You honor me with your loyalty.”

They’re used to my silence.

My words, however, have them gaping at me.

Not the content of my short statement, just the fact I uttered it out loud.

Then, when that feat resonates, like a wave around the table, each soldier bares their throat to me—almost two dozen Oskals submitting to their Pakhan.

A solid start to the proceedings.

“Last night, you held this city in my stead.” This time, I sign. It fucking hurts, but I won’t be able to manage the whole meeting otherwise. “You will be rewarded, but first…” I press my good fist to my chest. “Thank you.”

From their wide eyes, you’d think I was cursing at them, but slowly, when they realize I truly am grateful, they relax some.

Antonin Valkov even rumbles, “We’d have held the state for you if need be, Pakhan.”

Iosif Arsenyev concurs, “The fucking country.” He slams his fist against his knee. “Wouldn’t we, men?”

Each Brigadier slaps the flat of their hand to the table in agreement.

Letting the ramifications of their backing hit home, it sinks in that the Krestniy Otets is fucked.

Taking a seat, some of my tension easing now I know which way the wind blows, I ask, “What’s the damage?”

“Ten of our men are dead,” Yuri Morozov answers.

My mouth tightens. “Married? With families?”

Nods come from the different Brigadiers who commanded them.

“See that their widows and children never go hungry. As for their funerals, coordinate with Igor and I will attend the services.”

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