“I think he’s arrogant enough to show enough of his hand if he thinks I’m considering his offer.” I stand, buttoning my jacket.
“And if the Ghost makes his move?”
“Then our people intercept him.”
“That’s easier said than done. The Ghost didn’t earn his reputation by being easy to anticipate and stop. They won’t know he’s there until it’s happening.”
“Then they’d better stay vigilant. Handle things.”
“You actually want to take out the Ghost?”
He’s a powerful asset. I’ve used him a few times, but I also know he’s a weapon that could be used on me one day.
“If something happens to her before I can get this situation under control, I want to know immediately. I don’t care what I’m doing or who I’m with. You call me.”
“Will do.”
He leaves, and I’m alone with my thoughts. She has no idea the Ghost is circling. No idea how close she still is to dying.
And she definitely has no idea I’m the only thing standing between her and a bullet.
I pull out my phone and scroll to a photo I shouldn’t have. One of my men took it last week. Sofia leaving the library, coffee in hand, laptop bag over her shoulder. The sun caught her hair just right. She looks—happy. Relaxed.
It was the standard check in. Usually, I delete the photos immediately.
Not this one.
I kept this one because she looks unguarded, and I’ve become mean enough to resent anything that can take that from her.
I blacken the screen before I can stare too long.
I check the time and leave my office. I agreed to meet Yuri at my restaurant. It gives me an advantage. I don’t believe he knows I own it. Ownership is buried under so many shell companies, it would take a forensic accountant a year to find it.
My assets are buried deep.
He arrives fifteen minutes late, which is a small dominance move. I expected nothing less. He's dressed well. Dark suit, no tie. He shakes my hand with the confidence of a man who has decided we are equals.
We arenotequals.
"I appreciate you making the time," Yuri says smoothly.
"I always have time for the right conversation," I say.
I watch him settle. His eyes move around the room in the way of someone cataloguing exits, positions, the locations of people he can't see. I do the same thing. The difference is I've already catalogued everything in this room and he's still working on it.
It’s my room, after all.
"Mikhail is dying faster than people know," he says. No preamble. "The inner circle is aware. The outer circle is beginning to suspect. Within sixty days, possibly less, there will be a vacuum."
"That's Baranov business. Not mine," I say.
"It becomes everyone's business when the wrong person tries to fill it." He meets my eyes. "Sofia is twenty-one years old. She's been running the legitimate holdings for less than a year. She has no real operational experience. No relationships with the families. She doesn’t know the business. Young, naive and dangerously out of her depth.” He pauses. "She will not survive the transition."
I keep my face neutral.
"That's a strong assessment," I say.
"It's an accurate one." He leans forward slightly. "You and I both know what a power vacuum in the Baranov organization means for the city. Instability. Competition for the territory. Six months of bloodshed before anyone gets control. That's bad for everyone operating in New York." He spreads his hands. "I'm offering stability. A known quantity. Someone with support from Moscow.”