Page 229 of Dance of Defiance

“Let’s discuss him,” I growl. “Given that my father sat at the Iron Table, the rest of the Table gets some input on what happens next. Nikolai, I’m sorry?—”

“Roman.” Nikolai gives me a quiet, understanding look. “You don’t need to apologize for not killing your own father. I already spoke to Kir regarding the Iron Table.” He nods. “Exile to Russia satisfies me.”

The Iron Tabledidget some input, but ultimately, this was a Nikitin decision. Stepan convinced me that executing Pavel could make him a martyr in any loyalists' eyes, and maybe cast my ascension to the throne in a bad light.

So the man I once called father is being exiled from the Nikitin empire and sent permanently to Russia. He’ll be watched. He will not be able to leave. As far as I’m concerned, he can fucking freeze and rot there.

Nikolai rolls his neck. “Now, I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss?”

“No,” I smile. “I don’t think so.”

“In that case…” He, Bane, and their men stand. I do too, shaking their hands.

Nikolai glances over at my captains. “If you have any sense, this won’t be a hard decision.”

He starts to walk out, but Bane lingers for a second. He shakes my hand and then brings me in for a hug. “You got this, brother. All hail the king.”

Before leaving with his dad, he walks past me to Val, who stands and shakes his hand. Bane leans in and murmurs in his ear. Val shrugs.

“If I ever hurt the fucker, I’ll throwmyselfout a window. How’s that?”

Bane pats my arm as he heads out. “I fuckin’likethat guy,” he murmurs.

Then, it’s just Val, Stepan, the captains, and me.

“Before theavtoritetsand I convene to address any issues we might have with your ascension, is there anything you’d like to say?” Stepan asks.

This is largely a technicality. But there are rules in the Bratva. In this case, the top captains along with Stepan need to vote in a majority for me to take Pavel’s throne, because Pavel, failure of a father, shitbag, and lazy fuck that he is, neverofficiallynamed me as his successor.

I clear my throat as I turn and let my gaze drag over the table. Then I glance at Val. He grins, points between me and himself, then makes a crude gesture only I can see involving two fingers of one hand and an “O” shape of the other.

Christ, he’s insane.

But I’m insanely in love with him, and it’s that spark of pure “Val” energy that shreds any lingering hesitation I might have as I turn to address the table.

“I was born to lead this empire,” I say boldly. “I am not my father; I didn’t receive his cruelty or malice. But I did inherit the parts of him that can lead men, make hard choices, and act when necessary. Now,” I growl, resting my knuckles on the table. “To address the elephant in the room.” My eyes narrow. “This is my empire to rule. And Iwillrule with this man at my side.” I turn and point a finger at Val. “If any of you have a problem withme loving a man, quite frankly, you can go fuck yourselves. Any questions?”

The room goes quiet. The five of them glance at each other, then beckon Stepan over. The six of them huddle, muttering quietly in Russian for a moment.

Stepan stands and looks at me. His brow is furrowed, and there’s a tight, dark expression on his face as he slowly walks back to me. He looks me dead in the eye as he rests a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Roman.”

I blink.

Fuckingwhat?

Stepan exhales again. “I’m afraid I need to trouble you to inquire as to your first order of business…pakhan.”

“Sneaky fucker,” Val mutters.

Stepan grins widely at me, then pulls me into a tight embrace. “It was unanimous,” he murmurs. “And if you were my son,” he continues, “I would beveryproud to be your father.” Then he releases me.

The other captains stand, bowing and calling me “pakhan” one by one.

Then I’m turning and embracing Val as he sinks into my arms. He cups my jaw, grinning. “I’ve never kissed apakhanbefore.” He winks as he whispers in my ear. “Never fucked one, either. And I’m getting REAL hard thinking about it.”

“You’re fucking nuts, you know that?” I grin.