Page 78 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“Ilyasov relayed the message to everyone,” he explains. “He informed us he had challenged you and that the winner would take control of the Romanoff Bratva. It seems like a fair way to—”

“Fair?” I spit. “‘Fair’ was being chosen by my father for the job. ‘Fair’ was me dedicating years of my life to expanding our territory, maintaining alliances, eliminating enemies. The only thing not ‘fair’ about this entire situation is my men turning their backs on me to support the brother who lost in the first place. Ilyasov is a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum.”

“That may be, but—”

“I’m not fucking finished,” I snarl. “That all being said, I am more than willing to engage in Ilyasov’s ridiculous game to prove to any doubters once and for all that the Bratva is mine and mine alone.”

When I’m done speaking, the room is silent for a long time. I look each man in the eye to test his mettle.

To see who needs convincing.

Who needs intimidating.

Who needs eliminating.

Then Eduard nods. “That is all we ask. Bravery and loyalty.”

I press my knuckles into the surface of the table. “I’ve always been loyal to the Bratva.”

“And no one else?” he inquires. “Ilyasov may have convinced some of the men that you are more easily manipulated by Aryana—er, Arya—than you ought to be. That she and the baby have pulled your focus and your loyalty from what truly matters.”

I wait for a long time before I reply. When I do, I’m vibrating with fury.

At my full height, I tower over the seated men. My eyes burn a hole in each of them. “That is going too fucking far, Eduard—and any of you who agree with him. I’ll say this only once: the next man who claims Arya and my son have weakened me will not draw another breath. The Bratva is bigger than all of us. But none of you are bigger than your don. I’m back now, gentlemen. Start acting like it.”

A wave of shocked discomfort moves through the room. Even Gennady scratches nervously at the back of his head before giving me an encouraging smile that looks more like a wince.

A few months ago, my word was enough to silence discussion on an issue. My opinion was enough for any man in any room to nod in agreement.

It wasn’t because they were afraid—but because they trusted me.

Now, because of Ilyasov, that trust is gone. They doubt me. Only blood can fix that.

Ilyasov’s blood.

27

Arya

Dima might be right. Maybe Ilyasov is still in New York City.

That doesn’t mean Lukas is.

To me, it seems most likely that Ilyasov would shove Lukas off on someone else to take care of. He is busy trying to overthrow his brother. I can’t imagine he wants to take care of a needy baby while trying to organize Bratva business.

I’m betting he’d leave that to Vera.

As soon as I get to Chicago, I go to Ilyasov’s house. Dima said he’d never be stupid enough to go back there, but I hope he’s wrong.

When I pull up to the house, though, it’s clear by the shuttered windows that Dima was right and no one is home. Still, I get out and walk around the perimeter of the property.

Every single window is closed tight. Blinds drawn, curtains closed, shutters locked. If anyone is inside, they are walking around in absolute darkness.

I pull out my new burner and dial Vera’s number. The number rings and rings and rings, but I have a hard time hanging up even when I know she isn’t answering.

Where is my son?I want to scream.What have you done with my baby?

If I could just talk to her, I could convince her to end all this madness.

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