Page 43 of Brutal Unionn

I tilt my head, suspicious. “Sho.”

“If you want your jacket, let me come as backup,” he says, voice calm but loaded. “I’ll stay in the shadows. No one even has to know I’m there. You just give me a signal if things go sideways.”

I eye him hard, chewing the inside of my cheek. Ihatethat he’s right. I hate that I know I might need him. And Ireallyhate how much of me wants him close.

“Fine,” I say, voice clipped. “But under conditions.”

He lifts a brow. “Hit me.”

“One: you don’t get to kill anyone unless I say so. That includes my brother.”

“Easy,” he says, handing me my jacket, already standing to grab his bomber jacket from the edge of the bed.

“Two: you don’t move unless I tell you to.”

Sho snorts, shrugging on the jacket. “Youdolove telling me what to do.”

I ignore it. “And three…”

He leans forward slightly, that smug glint returning. “Yeah?”

“You don’t talk.” I shrug into the jacket, tossing my hair over the collar.

His lips part in disbelief. “What?”

“No commentary. No smug little jabs. No smart-ass flirting. No interruptions while I’m trying to keep my brother from trying to kill me. I want silence.”

Sho stares at me like I just asked him to chop off one of his fingers. “You’re asking the impossible.”

“That’s the point.” I shrug, heading for the door as he mutters something under his breath.

“You coming?” I toss over my shoulder.

He nods, rolling his eyes as he slips on his all-black Nike Air Forces, then falls in step behind me without another word.

The elevator dingsas we reach the top floor of Petrov Industries, our business headquarters and version of the financial district the Yakuza use in Japan. The building is in the heart of Thirty-fourth Street, right next to the world’s largestMacy’sand from the outside looking in, we’re all business people. No one knows what actually goes on and no one cares as long as it is not loud, bluntly obvious and we pay the monthly 1.2 million dollars it takes to keep the lights on.

At the front desk, Lily is curled in her chair like a kitten, legs tucked beneath her and nose buried deep inThe Shining. A highlighter’s tucked behind her ear, and a half-empty cup of matcha balances dangerously close to her keyboard. When my boots hit the floor her eyes dart up to me, and then flicker in confusion to Sho, who is just a step behind me.

Lily’s always been like that. She’s the closest thing the boys and I have to a childhood friend, given that her father worked for ours and we’ve always operated in the same circles because of that. If I had friends, Lily would be my closest, because I would do anything to protect her. We all would. Especially Aleksandr.

She’s a certified genius and my favorite kind of weirdo—the kind who wore Converse with her prom dress and askedmeto prom our senior year. Lily loves everything frilly and girly—especiallyThe Powerpuff Girls—but will turn around and quote James Baldwin or Thoreau mid-conversation without missing a beat. That duality? That’s why I adore her.

After her father died four years ago, we covered her tuition to Yale—double major, political science and British literature. And when she graduated we paid her an absurd amount of money to work as our personal secretary.

“Hey, Lil.” I stride up to the desk, trying not to limp. “Nik in there?”

Her smile brightens as she shuts the book and sets it down slowly, the cover landing with a thud that makes her wince. She’s in a yellow button up sweater and dark denim jeans. Her black wand curls bounce lightly as she flips a page, nose ring catching the light as she glances back at the office.

“No, he’s not,” she says carefully.

“Perfect.”

But before I can push the door open, her voice softens, catching at the edges. “Nadi?”

“Yeah Lil?” I call back, my hand resting on the doorknob.

“You good?” Her eyes flick to Sho, then back to me, like she’s silently asking me to blink twice if I’m in danger.