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“She seems to be everywhere. You sure she’s not keeping an eye on you? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s tailed you.”

“That’s what I thought.” We shared a look, and he flicked off a smile. “But she’s clear. The meetings have been coincidental.”

“And yet, you’re still concerned. You haven’t out rightly asked for my opinion, but I’ll take my chances and give it anyway. I haven’t seen you this interested in anyone since Irina. That means, she might just be worth the shot.”

My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out, staring at the screen. It was one of the men from the warehouse requesting a video call. I answered on the second ring.

“Speak.”

He was sitting in the back office of the old meatpacking warehouse we used as a front, with a half-empty gin bottle on the desk and papers scattered like corpses after a raid. There was noise in the background, men shouting over one another.

“Boss. I know you literally just got back, but there’s a problem.” Sergei’s voice was low, tight like a piano wire about to snap. “The Dalys.”

Fedor turned his full attention toward the phone when he heard the name of the Irish nuisance. I’d been around long enough to know there had been recurring issues with them, and the Pahkan needed me to put them to rest, once and for all.

“What kind of problem?” I asked Sergei.

“They hit one of our trucks. Two dead. One injured. The men are ready to draw blood. Word is they’re looking to escalate.” His breath hissed through the line like static. “Pasha saw their men wearing colors again. We believe they’re no longer interested in hiding in the shadows.”

I exhaled slowly, letting the tension stew in my lungs before releasing it. “So, they’ve stopped pretending.”

“They want war,” Sergei said. “And from the looks of things, they have to prepare to get one.”

There was a pause, and both Sergei and Fedor waited for me to indicate the next line of action: the empowerment to wreak havoc on the Irish turf and cause as much damage as they had done to us.

Back in Moscow, I wouldn’t have hesitated. In fact, I’d have led the troops to the battleground myself, but this was Los Angeles.

Although the Pahkan wanted to eliminate them from our radar, I was familiar with his methods, and I knew he wouldn’t appreciate a loud war starting barely one week after my arrival.

We could take them out with a snuff or a bang.

I chose the snuff.

“No. Not a war.” Sergei seemed taken aback by my decision, but didn’t make a move to interrupt me. “Calm the men. We’re going to deal with them, but we’ll do it quietly. Is that understood, Sergei?”

The hardness in his eyes was proof that he wished for a different approach. Still, he nodded. “Understood, Boss.”

“Take extra precautions. Be wary of those you trust. It could have been inside job, for all we fucking know. The Dalys are angry, desperate, and unstable. Keep the men in line. Make sure no one moves until I say so.”

“I’ll handle it.” He gave a curt nod.

I hung up without another word.

Reports were that the Daly family had been gnawing at our heels for months now, little bites meant to test the muscle beneath our skin.

But this? Two of my men were dead, and one was injured. This was different. This was bold and reckless. And if they were that reckless, it meant they were either stupid, or they were ready to die.

But first….

“Fedor, I need the names of the men from the warehouse. You’ll pay visits to the families of the deceased to give them the news.”

“And their wages?”

“We’ll settle it with a twenty percent bonus on each of them.”

Behind us, the door hinges creaked, and we both looked over our shoulders, facing the full view of my daughter catwalking down the steps in her purple sweater dress and knee-high boots, with her head raised, chin held high, and the breeze ruffling her hair to the side.

She looked like a true princess, too dressed up to be going on a stroll within the estate.

Irritated, I intercepted her path. “Where are you going?”

Katya silently brushed past me, ignoring the question, and Fedor, without my permission , stepped in front of her, eyes flashing.

“Little girl, the boss speaks to you,” he growled in fierce Russian.

Katya was a decent height, standing at a solid five-eleven, but her head snapped up, and further up , to meet his gaze. She snarled, “Fuck off, bodyguard. Get out of my way.”

“You honestly think I’ll let you get past without addressing him with some fucking respect?”

“I heard him, and I’m choosing not to answer. If that’s a problem with you, take it up with him.”

“You’re really a brat,” he said in Russian, drawing a deep gasp from Katya.

“What did you just call me?”

“The two of you, that’s enough!” Their eyes snapped to me, both filled with annoyance. I focused on my daughter. “Katya, I asked you a question.”

“If you must know, I’m heading out to finalize my birthday plans.” Exasperatedly, she combed her fingers through her hair, fighting to calm herself down. “Not that you remembered, or anything.”

“I do remember. It’s in three days.”

Shock flickered through her eyes before she raised her guard again, blocking me out. “Then, I see no problem with—”

“There is a problem. Firstly, it’s fucking late. Secondly, with the Dalys acting out, we’re keeping strict security protocols. That means you’re going to throw your party here, in the estate. It’s safer. And that is my final take on it.”

I watched Katya’s jaw tighten with irritation, but I said nothing. There was no reason to.

She waited—for what, I wasn’t sure. A change of heart? A rare moment of reconsideration? Whatever it was, she didn’t get it.

With a barely stifled breath through her nose, she turned and walked back into the house, her heels tapping the marble floor like a ticking metronome.

Then, like a programmed robot, she halted on the last step and flipped the bird at Fedor.

“Count yourself lucky tonight, Bob the Builder. Any day or time you’re ready, I can take you on.”

“You fucking wish,” he muttered under his breath with a snort. “Before you even lift a finger, you’re dust.”

She stormed into the house, slamming the door behind her, and I scowled when Fedor returned to stand by my side.

“You threaten and insult my daughter in front of my face, Fedor?”

“Respectfully, boss, she was being a brat, and I know you think you have to tolerate her shitty attitude, but I don’t. It’s my job first to be loyal to you and protect you, before dealing with whiny, disrespectful—” He stopped talking when I gave him a look that could kill.

“And you know if it were anyone else who’d tried that crap, I would have blown off his fucking balls. So, you should count yourself lucky indeed tonight.”

After thinking on it for a second, he only shrugged, turned toward the back of the house, and quietly stormed off.