Page 66 of Ruinous Need

I FEEL USELESS as everyone works around me, busy with strategy meetings that I’m not invited to.

Viktor’s unruly black hair is cropped close to his head, not a strand out of place. He’s clean-shaven, and his smooth skin glows with authority.

“Mr Zakharov.” Markov nods at him.

He’s barely recognizable from the messy-haired assassin I’ve gotten to know. He emanates authority, even if it’s intermingled with a healthy dose of danger.

He’s…

Leadership material.

The thought catches me off-guard, but it slots into place like the missing piece of a puzzle.

Viktor is going to make a play for power. That’s why he took so long to get here. The unhinged, mercurial energy is still there, but Viktor is channelling it into one powerful focus: taking over control.

But how? He doesn’t have the right.

From what I’ve picked up — eavesdropping on Merc and Ben when they gossip about mafia politics, mainly — the Bratva isa loose web of families. The one thing that entitles people to power, in this old-fashioned and backwards kind of society, is birthright.

And Semyon’s the Pakhan. Viktor’s his cousin, not his brother. He doesn’t have the right to lead.

“You’re trying to become the Pakhan, aren’t you?”

“I can’t hide anything from you.”

“The haircut gave it away,” I tease him. “I don’t understand how you would be entitled to it though.”

He pauses, his black eyes boring into me. As though he’s considering whether to tell me something.

“The old Pakhan, before Semyon, was my father.”

I pause with a forkful of pasta halfway to my mouth. “Then, why are you not the Pakhan?”

“I didn’t want it. Being Pakhan means less choice for me, the people I love, it leaves me stuck in the New York Bratva with all its problems.” Viktor pushes away his plate of food, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are distant. “I would have been trapped in some loveless marriage with a daughter of a Council member.”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

“My father took power after a bloodbath when I was a child. He’d been working on it for years. I didn’t like how my father used his power and I thought I would do the same thing. Hurt the people closest to me.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Viktor snorts, his face twisting regretfully. He meets my eyes “I can’t name a single person in the Bratva my father didn’t hurt.”

“But I imagine those who were closest to him got the worst of it. Just because he hurt other people doesn’t mean your suffering doesn’t matter, Viktor.”

“My mother got the worst of it.” I take his hand and squeeze it tight, keeping my eyes on his. “But, yes, he hurt me too. I thinkthat was his favorite pastime. Playing games that would hurt other people. Like Semyon.”

“You’re not like that.”

Viktor shakes his head and tries to pull back. “Who knows what I’ll be like once I’m Pakhan?” A shadow passes over his face.

“You won’t be like that.” I loop my arms around his neck. “I won’t let you be. But why even do it, if you hate it so much?”

Viktor tilts his head to the side, and sweeps a strand of hair behind my ear. “You.”

That’s when I realize. Viktor’s not just doing business. He’s starting a war with Semyon.

I freeze as I process what this means. “But… Won’t it put you in danger? Is it really worth it?”