Page 35 of The Dragon 1
He’d get one.
Just not the one he expected.
Because now Reo was watching.
And Reo didn’t just catch killers. He dismantled them. Thought by thought. Thread by thread. Until there was nothing left but answers—and blood.
Reo’s voice cut into my thoughts. “And the second point.”
I eyed him. “Yes, what’s the other thing we should talk about?”
“Before your meeting with the Lion, we should try to brainstorm why he is doing a surprise visit in the first place.”
I sighed.
The name alone pushed pressure into my chest.
The fucking Lion.
Russia’s new Bratva King.
While Japan belonged to my father and me, the Lion—Kazimir Solonik sat on a much larger, bloodier throne, overseeing many parts of the world. Kazimir had inherited this position after his uncle Igor stepped down.
And he ruled differently. Where Igor trafficked influence through quiet brutality and assessed silence, his nephew came with explosions.
Cities leveled.
Ports seized.
Enemies erased.
The Lion didn’t just want power.
He wantedeveryoneto remember how he took it.
And now, with all the Italian ports under Bratva control, he held the keys to the most lucrative drug trade in the world. Everyounce of powder moving into Europe and Asia came throughhisgates. The English, the French, the Albanians, even the Germans—all had to kneel if they wanted in.
He named the price.
He controlled the flow.
And if you didn’t buy from him?
You didn’t buy at all.
Unless, of course, you got creative.
Which we had. . .
Backdoor shipments from Marseille with the Corsican. Quiet dealings with Vietnamese syndicates who didn’t yet fear the Bratva’s reach. We’d scaled back our Bratva imports—only by twenty percent, enough to stay under the radar.
My gaze remained fixed on the window. “Do you think the Lion knows what we’re doing?”
“I don’t like coincidences,” Reo cleared his throat. “We reduced orders from his ports. It’s down 20% to not make it too obvious. We alsojustsecretly rerouted through France. And now, out of nowhere, the Lion shows up in Tokyo without warning.”
I tilted my head. “You think he came for that small percentage?”
Reo shrugged. “With men like him, it is not the quantity. It is the insult.”
