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For a moment, Mikhail appears like he might argue further, but he huffs, scoots out of the booth, and trudges toward the back with her.

“I’ll be back to clean up.” she tosses a cloth over her shoulder, motioning to the table.

Uri, still grinning like a kid at a circus, throws a piece of popcorn and catches it in his mouth. Between bites, he grins. “I knew this was going to be a good show.” He slides out of the booth with exaggerated nonchalance and starts picking up shards of glass. The rest of us follow suit, each taking a task. I grab a rag to wipe the blood while my brother heads for the mop.

“You need to control your men better,” my father mutters, his voice pointed as he addresses my brother.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Mikhail’s ego,” I reply, glancing toward the bar where Katya had been before all this. “If we’re dealing with another shipment tomorrow, we need to secure the routes—no interruptions this time.”

My brother nods in agreement. It’s nice when we’re on the same page. “We’ll double the guards, especially near the docks.”

The conversation turns to logistics—delivery times, manpower, bribes to local officials—and I let it wash over me, my focus split between the task at hand and the image of Katya’s unflinching face as she handled Mikhail. My brother’s question comes back to mind. Why didn’t she defend herself better against Viktor?

Ten minutes later, Mikhail returns, one hand heavily bandaged, his other clutching a bowl of ice cream, expression that of a sullen child. Katya follows behind him, her expression calm but sharp as her eyes scan the now-clean table.

“Thank you so much. I would’ve done it,” she says, her tone polite but firm.

“We know,” I tell her simply, earning a quick glance of acknowledgement before she moves on.

My father speaks up, his voice carrying a note of authority. “Katya, I’m hosting an event at my home for my birthday. Friends, family, something small and intimate. Would you mind tending the bar for the evening? Please. I’ll make sure Dimitri pays you for your time.”

“I would love to, sir,” she replies smoothly, nodding.

Uri claps Mikhail on the back, his laughter loud and mocking. “See? That’s how it’s done,” he says, still chuckling as Mikhail glares at him over his ice cream.

Damien frowns. “Maybe we should get another sign made about not touching the bartender.”

Chapter

Five

Katya

The home office in St Petersburg is a trash pile. The walls are yellow from years of cigarette smoke. We have one secretary, Marguerite, one wire tap guy, George, and our boss who collects all the info and transmits our intel to the CIA. Including Markus and me, it brings our team to a grand total of five. Five of us trying to keep the streets safe from Majesty. I kinda feel like the odds are stacked against us.

Leaning over Marguerite’s desk, I read the transcripts from the recent tapped calls. From what we can tell, there’s this looming overlord shadow figure called The Deviant trying to get Majesty spread around the world. He’s new to the scene, trying to worm his way into the St. Petersburg crime scene, which has been well established for years. The Koslovs, Dimitri’s family, have been at war with the Smirnov family for generations. There was a third family in the Bratva borscht, but they were wiped out years ago and Sveti was the only survivor. Besides always talking in code, the Smirnov family are sexist, homophobic asshats. At least I never get that vibe from the Koslovs. Otherwise why would they be so accepting of Uri?

But both crime families are on The Deviant’s payroll, or at least that’s what our intel is telling us. Apparently decades of hatred can be put to the side if there’s enough money to go around.

The door creaks open and George walks in. I know it’s him because he always smells like hand sanitizer and soap. But suddenly there’s a THWACK on my ass.

“What the fuck!” I spin around and grab George’s right hand. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. Why are only gross men hitting on me?

George stammers, “Oh shit, Katie, I’m so sorry.” I let go of his wrist but glare at him like my eyes could turn into heat-seeking missiles ready to blow at any second. “I thought you were my girlfriend. She kinda looks like you.”

“And what the hell is she doing in a secure building?”

He shrugs. “Bringing me lunch?”

Jesus, the world is doomed.

My boss walks in, bringing his coffee mug to his lips. “Any new updates? Are the Smirnovs retaliating against the Koslov’s for killing Viktor?” He glares at me. “Markus’s little kill shot could launch another war, especially since Uri is taking the credit.”

“No, the Smirnovs are laying low,” I tell him. “But there’s a shipment of something coming in tomorrow night. Could be Majesty. And in other news, I’ve been asked to bartend for the Koslovs at the time of docking. There’s a small family party and I guess the rich can’t pour their own drinks.”

My boss nods. “Ok, we’ll send Markus to the docks to check everything out.”

“Any word from the Agency?”