Chapter 10 "Incoming," Pavel warns. I don't need to look up from my paperwork to know what's crawling up my driveway. Pavel's dead-flat tone says it all-part disgust, part resignation, like he's announcing the arrival of a plague. "Let me guess," I mutter. "Ihor." "Bingo." Pavel moves away from the window, shaking his head. "And judging by the way he's stomping up those steps, he's here to collect." Collect what, exactly? My compliance? My submission? My willingness to bend the knee to a man who thinks he owns me just because he was kissing my father's ass since before I could walk? "He'll be sorely disappointed." I toss my pen on my desk and lean back grimly in the chair. Pavel leans against my desk, those hazel eyes of his going serious. "You know he's not going to let the organ thing go, right? That trade was his baby. His golden goose." "Well, his golden goose just got its neck wrung." "Sure did. And now, he's pissed." Pavel runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. You want to clean up the family business, make us less of a target for the feds. But Ihor's not going to roll over and play dead just because you're the new boss, Ko." "What's he going to do? Challenge me outright? He'd have to be suicidal. Even he isn't that stupid." "No, but he's got other ways to make your life hell." Pavel's voice drops. "He's got Luka." And there it is. The knife between my ribs, twisted just enough to remind me of exactly how trapped I am. Because Pavel's right. Ihor doesn't need to come for me directly. All he has to do is whisper poison in Yana's ear, convince her that San Francisco isn't safe anymore, that maybe they should take their little family somewhere new. Somewhere far away. Somewhere I can't protect my nephew. "I know what he's got," I say quietly. The knock on my door is sharp, demanding. Osip appears a second later, his usual grin replaced by something closer to a grimace. "He's here," Osip announces. "And he's about as charming as a fucking root canal." I check my watch. "Tell him I'll be with him in twenty minutes." "Twenty?" Pavel raises an eyebrow. "The man needs to learn patience." Osip's grin returns. "My pleasure." The door clicks shut, leaving Pavel and me alone with the weight of what's coming. "You know this is just going to piss him off more," Pavel points out. "Good." I pull out a deck of cards from my desk drawer. "Maybe if he's angry enough, he'll say something stupid. Something I can use against him." We play three hands of gin rummy while Ihor waits outside like a rabid dog. I win all three, but the victory feels hollow. Everything feels hollow these days. When I finally let him in, Ihor storms through my door like he owns the place. His face is flushed red, those beady eyes of his blazing with indignation. "Did you forget I was here?" he demands, his voice pitched high with outrage. "Not at all." I gesture to the cards still spread across my desk. "Pavel and I were finishing up some important business." "Important business?" His eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. "Card games?" "Gin rummy, actually. Pavel's getting better, but he still can't beat me." I meet Ihor's glare with perfect calm. "Have a seat. I've got ten minutes." He's practically vibrating with fury now. "I've been waiting out there for⁠-" "Twenty. I know. Like I said, I had important business." I remain standing while he reluctantly drops into the chair across from my desk. "What can I do for you, Ihor?" "You know damn well why I'm here." I lean against the edge of my desk, arms crossed. "Pretend I don't." His jaw works for a moment, like he's chewing glass. "The organ trade. Have you lost your fucking mind?" "My mind is perfectly intact, thank you." "Bullshit." He slaps his palm on my desk hard enough to make my coffee mug jump. "Your father would never have⁠-" "My father is dead." The words come out colder than I intended, but I don't take them back. "I'm pakhan now. My decisions are final." "Your father built this empire on smart choices. Profitable choices. And you're pissing it all away for some misguided sense of honor? Do you think you'll be a good man if you do this, Kovan? Will they make stained glass windows in your honor, with a little fucking halo on top of your head?" I study his face-the weak chin, the shifty eyes, the mouth that never stops running. This man has been a cancer in my family for years. Perhaps it's time to cut him out. "The organ trade makes us enemies," I say simply. "Enemies I don't need." "The organ trade makes us rich." "Blood money." He laughs like a wheezing corpse. "You think the rest of our business is clean? You think our hands aren't already stained?" "Maybe. But they don't have to get any dirtier." "Jesus Christ." He rubs at his eyes with his knuckles. "You sound just like your brother. All noble intentions and moral high ground. Look where it got him." My face goes stony. "Careful, Ihor." But just like his stooge Afanasy, he's too worked up to read the warning in my voice. "Vitalii thought he could clean up the family business, too. Thought he could be the good guy. And what happened? He ended up dead in an alley, and the woman he loved married his best friend." What a funny fucking way of spinning that story. His best friend. That's what Ihor calls himself. Like he didn't circle Yana's grief like a vulture, didn't prey on her vulnerability when the body was barely cold. "Vitalii died because he was careless," I say. "Not because he was good." "He died because he let his emotions make his decisions. The same mistake you're making now." I push off from the desk, taking a step toward him. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you're thinking with your heart instead of your head. Just like he did." Ihor's smile is razor-thin. "Tell me, how is the good doctor doing?" "What the fuck did you just say to me?" "Dr. Fairfax. Pretty little thing. I can see why she's got you so distracted." "You don't know what you're talking about." "Don't I?" He leans back in his chair, suddenly relaxed. "Word travels fast in this city, Kovan. Especially when the pakhan starts playing games with civilians." I'm across the desk before I fully realize I've moved, my hand wrapped around his throat. "Say her name again. I dare you." But Ihor doesn't look scared. If anything, he looks satisfied. "There it is," he whispers. "There's the emotion that's going to get you killed. Just like it killed your brother." I squeeze harder, watching his face turn red. It would be so easy. One quick twist and all my problems disappear. Except they don't. Because Yana would still be out there. And Luka would still be beyond my reach. I let him go, stepping back as he gasps and coughs. "The organ trade stays dead," I tell him. "End of discussion." "Fine." He straightens his tie, his composure returning with frightening speed. "But don't say I didn't warn you about the consequences." "What consequences?" His smile returns, cold and calculating. "The Keres don't like being told no. And they have long memories." "Let me worry about the Keres." "Oh, I'm not worried about you or them." He stands, smoothing down his jacket. "I'm worried about the people you care about. Your nephew, for instance." "Luka is protected." "Is he?" Ihor tilts his head. "Because from where I'm sitting, the boy seems awfully exposed." The threat is subtle but unmistakable. "You're walking a dangerous line, Ihor." He simply shrugs. "Seems to me like I'm just being a concerned stepfather. A man who wants what's best for his family." He moves toward the door, then pauses. "You know, Yana's been talking about getting away from the city. Maybe somewhere quieter. Safer." "Luka's life is here." "Luka's life is wherever I say it is." The mask slips for just a moment, revealing the venom underneath. "I'm his father now, Kovan. His legal guardian. And if I decide that San Francisco isn't good for him... Well." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. The message is crystal clear. Cooperate, or lose the boy forever. "We're done here," I growl. "Yes," he agrees, his hand on the doorknob. "I think we are." The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with the echoes of his threats. If I were any other man, I'd be trembling with rage. But I learned a long time ago to keep it buried out of sight. Still, that doesn't mean I'm at ease. Ihor's got me cornered and he knows it. Every move I make, he counters with Luka's safety. Every decision I try to make independently, he threatens to take the boy away. I'm the pakhan of one of the most powerful criminal organizations on the West Coast. And I'm completely powerless against one bitter old man with a marriage certificate. But that's about to change. Because there's one thing Ihor doesn't know about me yet. I don't just make enemies. I destroy them.