Page 174 of Dance of Madness

“No more games, Kir,” I growl quietly. “No more bullshit.Who.”

“I don’t fuckingknow, Nero.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Look,” I snarl. “I understand that sometimes, the business you and I do can put you in a tight spot, given the business youmostlydo with the higher echelons of the Bratva world.”

He laughs coldly. “I don’t think you understand the half of it.”

“Answer the question, Kir.Please.”

He exhales heavily. “You know I can’t do that.”

I grit my teeth. “I think that was an admission that youdoknow.”

“What will it change?” he growls. “What will it give you?”

“More than you know,” I hiss back. “Kir, it’simportant.”

“So are the vows I spoke when I took my seat at the Iron Table.”

“Ahh, so itwasa Russian family.”

“Nero—”

“I know it wasn’t Pavel Nikitin or Nikolai Antonov.”

He sighs. “Goddammit?—”

“Drazen Krylov?”

“He was still in exile four years ago.”

“Yelizaveta Solovyova.”

Kir growls. “And what thefuckproblem would Yelizaveta have with your family?”

“Thank you. So, no one on the Iron Table. Let’s move on to the High Council.”

“Nero, I amtellingyou?—”

“Not Viktor Komarov. He’s in Chicago...” I muse. “Not Yuri Volkov. My mother played tennis with him a few times, and she and his wife were friendly?—”

“Nero!” Kir hisses. “Enough!”

“Not Anastasia Javanovic—I’d know,” I growl, thinking of Mikhail. “And Gavan Tsarenko seems unlikely…”

I purse my lips.

“That just leaves Marko Kalishnik, doesn’t it?”

My pulse jumps when he doesn’t immediately deny it like he did the rest. We both go quiet for a few seconds.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I finally hiss quietly.

“Youknowwhy,” he spits back. Then he sighs heavily. “I don’t know the details.”

“But itwasthe Kalishnik family.”

“I don’t know the details?—”

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