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YULIAN

Manhattan’s lights glint off the water like gunfire. “Perimeter’s secure,” Maksim informs me as I arrive. “Couldn’t get the Volkov twins here, but Kazimir’s in play.”

Zhenya’s still bed-ridden, and Anton was never a beacon of courage. The only person he’d ever risk his life for is his sister. He sure as fuck isn’t going to offer himself up as a sacrifice when she’s no longer on the board.

“Last I checked, serving your pakhan isn’t optional,” I remark coldly.

“No, it’s not,” Maksim agrees. “Are you going to discipline him?”

There it is again: discipline. A sanitized word for an ugly act of violence. “I should.”

“But you’re not going to.”

My thoughts flit back to Mia. To everything I did to keep her from the battlefield, from risking her life, because losing her would have broken me.

What would losing Anton do to Zhenya?

She’s weakened. Can’t walk—never will again. If she’s going to keep her post, she’ll need her brother more than ever. Without him, she’ll be as good as dead, too. People don’t get far in this line of work without racking up grudges.

I can punish cowardice. Can judge it with a bullet to the back of the head, like it deserves.

But I won’t do that to loyalty.

Especially not when it’s to family.

“Let’s get through the night first.” I fix my cuffs, glance around for Kazimir. “Tell me the plan.”

“Well, we’ve only got one bait.” He says it with a shrug. “It’s pretty convenient when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it. One target, one shot.”

He’s not wrong. Knowing where the bullet will land lets us control the board.

I walk up to Kazimir. “You don’t look like you’re saying your last prayers.”

“Don’t I?” He laughs, low and brittle. “Then I guess it’s not too late for me to go into acting.”

“I can make a few calls to Hollywood.”

“Now, you’re just dangling my last meal in front of me.”

“You’re not going to die tonight, friend.” I put my hand on his shoulder, squeeze firmly. “Not on my watch.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I knew what I was signing up for.

You don’t go into the Bratva and expect to make it to retirement age.

” His lopsided smile turns sad. “You dragged me out of the gutter, Yulian. You let me make something of myself. Thanks to you, I’ve lived a good life.

If it ends tonight, I’m good with that.”

“Kaz—”

“We belong to you. All of us.” He places a hand to his chest and bows slightly at the waist—a Bratva sign of respect. Of loyalty. “My life is yours. And when the time comes, so will be my death.”

I decide, then and there, that Desya will get Kazimir’s life over my dead fucking body.

I don’t respond. Just pat him on the back one last time before heading back to the prow of the ship.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” It’s Maksim, following at my heels. “We all live to serve you. If that’s how we die, then we’ve done our jobs.”

“No one dies tonight.” It comes out like a snarl, with bared fangs and claws. “That’s final.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I’m not,” I agree. “I’m ordering it. So don’t you dare disobey me.”

A brief smile flits across his tattooed face. “Yes, pakhan. ”

Bratva. A band of men. A brotherhood. All this time, I’ve kept that word at arm’s length. Never accepted what it meant, not truly.

Because losing one family hurt enough for a lifetime.

These past few weeks, I got the sense that Mia was torn about my commitments. That she was wondering whether my Bratva was more important to me than my family.

But my Bratva is family. My men—they’re willing to lay down their lives for me. That earns them the right to be called brothers. And they’ll protect what’s mine with their last breath.

“I take it Mia didn’t find out about tonight?” Maks asks, glancing around. Every guest at this yacht party, every person mingling—they’re all covert operators.

“No.” I clench my fists at my sides. “This is a Bratva matter. I don’t want any more innocent blood spilled.”

“She won’t take it well, you know. Regardless of how this ends.”

“I’m aware.”

“She might leave you.”

My knuckles turn white. The thought of Mia breaking things off for good is more than I can let myself focus on right now. But if she’s alive to dump me, then I’ll have done something right.

Last year, I put her in the line of fire. Recklessly—carelessly.

This time, I’ll draw the fire to me.

Just as I’m thinking that, I hear it. A soft, sharp sound piercing the night.

A silenced bullet.

I swirl towards Kazimir, but he’s unharmed. He’s drinking, chatting, unaware of the fact that the danger isn’t lurking on the sidelines anymore—it’s here.

Here, but where?

“Yulian.”

“He’s here,” I say, turning to Maks. “Alert the sentinels. We need to?—”

That’s when I see it: a dark stain spreading across Maksim’s shirt.

Time stops. My breath freezes in my lungs. “Maks.”

“Run.” It’s a whisper—a bloody gurgle. “Run, Yuli.”

He tips sideways. His glass shatters on the deck. That’s what finally turns heads towards us, but it’s too fucking late.

Desya’s here.

I grab Maksim before he can fall. His jacket flutters with the motion, revealing the entry point: upper right side of the chest. Not his heart, but his lung, probably.

“Hey.” I force him to look at me. “You’re okay. It’s just a flesh wound.”

But why did he target Maksim?

That’s when I do the math. Six bullets. One was for Slavik. One for Rurik. Then Zhenya, Anton, Kazimir…

And Mia.

But Mia’s off-limits now. I took her off the board. So Desya decided to find himself a replacement.

Maks.

Maks, who’s my right arm.

Maks, who’s been with me at every turn.

Maks, who held Desya down as I gouged out his eye.

Maks, who’s family .

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Kazimir’s shout yanks me back to the present. When I raise my head, I see exactly why he’s yelling: a red dot on Maksim’s forehead.

I don’t think; I act.

I tighten my hold and throw my second-in-command to the ground. He hits the deck with a grunt of pain, but I can’t afford to be gentle with him. I’m too busy keeping him alive.

Desya’s bullet misses. Doesn’t burrow into my brigadir’ s head like he wanted. Instead, it bites into my shoulder.

Pain explodes through my arm. I clench my teeth, force myself not to scream. Remind myself I’ve felt worse things than this. But it still hurts like fucking hell.

Chaos erupts on deck. My people start moving, raising their weapons. But soon, Desya’s silenced bullets aren’t the only thing piercing through the crowd.

It’s men in camouflage.

Prizrak.

They start boarding en masse, a flood of shadows and gunshots. Recruits start dropping, turning me into a liar in a matter of minutes.

No one dies tonight. Yeah, fucking right.

Failure burns on my tongue. But I can’t give up. Kazimir is still breathing—and so is Maks.

I drag us to the side of the yacht. The dark waters of the Hudson churn under us. It’s a steep drop, but it might be the only chance we’ve got.

Except that Maks is already struggling to breathe.

Blyat’. He’s got a punctured lung—there’s no way he can swim.

So I’ll have to play this differently.

I think back to everything Desya’s said and done. How he’s been hurting everyone around me—everyone but me. And then I understand what I’ve got to do.

“Kaz.” My last vor rushes over in an instant. “Protect him with your life.”

He gives a grim nod. “What are you going to?—?”

“What needs to be done.”

Prizrak is closing in on us, soldiers swarming from every side. I catch a glimpse of Desya at the center of the deck, eyepatch gleaming black, a sick grin on his face. Like he’s won.

He raises his gun. I don’t raise mine.

A bullet won’t save Maksim. It won’t save Kazimir. It won’t save Mia.

So I do the only thing that will: I grab onto the railing and throw myself overboard.

The three last things I see?—

Desya’s face twisting in horror.

His men, ditching Kaz and Maks to chase after me.

And the dark, churning waters, swallowing me whole.