Page 95 of Dance of Ruin

Oh,really.

I don’t necessarily trust Kir.

Nobody in the Black Court does.

Kir’s old-school. He believes in structure and hierarchy when it comes to underworld empires, and he’s not exactly silent about his thoughts on the Black Court and our…uniquestyle of policing said underworld empires.

The Black Court offends his sense of order. In his mind, we’re just a bunch of vigilantes: rogue judges rewriting the rules to suit ourselves.

“I assumed the best way to get your attention without getting anyoneelse’sas well was through Naomi’s apartment. What with certain forces being at odds with her father, andhimbeing virtually untouchable right now, she’d?—”

“It’s two-fucking-thirty in the morning, Kir,” I growl. “Why don’t you get to the point before the sun comes up.”

He dips his chin.

“One of my warehouses was hit yesterday.”

Well… That’s interesting. Shocking, to be honest.

This whole city knows who Kir is, what he’s capable of, and the kind of power and influence he wields.Nobodywould be stupid or suicidal enough to knock over one of his warehouses. And if someone actually had the kind of strength to go toe to toe with him, they wouldn’t waste an opening shot on something piddling like stealing from him.

I roll my eyes. “In that case, I’d suggest calling the police. Look,you’rethe one who called me here. If there’s something you want to tell me, just do it already so I can go back to bed.”

Kir’s brow arches, an amused look on his face. “Ahh, I see the problem here.”

“The fact that you weren’t thoughtful enough to have a coffee waiting for me?”

His smile fades. “No, you thinking I called you here because I needed your help with something.” He slowly shakes his head. “That's not it at all, Nico. This ismedoingyoua favor.” He takes a slow breath. “The warehouse job was quiet, surgical, and precise. All inventory gone, surveillance tapes looped, entry logs deleted.” His jaw grinds. “Not exactly the mark of a bunch of idiots, and anyone I know in the city who could pull off something like that is either an ally or the type to come at me much harder than merely picking my pocket.”

I resist the urge to tell him I already connected these dots several minutes ago.

“I believe it was a targeted move,” he says. “But not a robbery. A warning.”

My brow furrows. “Why do I get the sense you already know who did it.”

“Because I do.” He levels a cold look at me. “Can I assume you’re aware of an organization going by the name The Obsidian Syndicate?”

I keep my face neutral. “It might…ring a bell.”

Kir smirks. “Yes, I’m sure it might,” he says drily. “I believe the hit on my warehouse was in retaliation for me watching them too closely. I’ve been monitoring their expansion into New York. It used to be that they were simply mercenaries; guns-for-hire, destabilizers…that sort of thing. But they’re shifting from service to sovereignty now. Territory, policy, politics. It’s no longer about working for clients, but about building their own empire.”

I exhale, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “This is all fascinating, Kir,” I sigh. “But again, Idoown a phone. I'll give you some free advice: you’re one of the most powerful men in the city. Someone decides to step on your toes?” I shrug. “Cut off their fucking leg. Problem solved.”

Kir’s mouth curls slightly at the corners. “Thank you for that trulymasterfullesson in tactics, Nico. But I’m not interested in destabilizing my entire empire over one warehouse and a bruised ego.” He frowns. “The Obsidian Syndicate doesn’t scare me. But going to war with them affects my distribution lines, my shipping ports, my contracts. It brings noise where I need quiet.Thatis why I’m here.”

I smirk. “Hate to say it, but thisreallysounds like you asking me for a favor.”

“Then you’re not paying attention,” he replies coldly. “Nico, you’re already at war with them whether you admit it or not. They bombed your father’s birthday party. They’re digging into your little…club.”

I bristle, forcing myself not to show emotion when he mentions the Black Court. But I see amusement in his eyes when it’s clear he’s touched a nerve.

“Yes, Nico, I know what you and your friends do in the shadows. Just as I know that the Obsidian Syndicate is more than a bit interested in who you all are, where you meet, and how you might be either exploited ordestroyed,” he growls. “I also know that of all your animal mask friends,youare the only one trying to sound the alarm.” He shrugs. “I applaud your intuition.”

“I don’t need your compliments,” I mutter.

“No, but you might need this,” he says, reaching into his jacket. “It's something you can use. Information that isn’t readily available.”

He pulls out a folded piece of paper, and flicks it onto the corner of Naomi’s bed. When I pluck it up, I frown at the name written on it in clear, neat penmanship:Cyprus Logistics, LLC.

---