21. NIKOLAI
Chapter twenty-one
T he world didn’t stop because I was tired. A few hours of sleep was all I allowed myself.
The documents from Brooke were waiting in my inbox as soon as I woke up—asset transfers, discreet banking maneuvers, all the things necessary to keep my wealth fluid and untraceable on US soil. I signed off on them and moved on. Every minute wasted was one Delgado gained.
By eight a.m., I was showered, shaved, and ready to endure another syndicate business meeting.
Jack Byrnes, the head of the Irish syndicate in Boston, had insisted I join him for lunch at one of his waterfront restaurants in the Seaport District. Apparently, the view was supposed to soften me up.
It didn’t work.
Neither did the presence of his three daughters—who were all smiles, cleavage, and giggles.
Each one was a carbon copy of the next, beautiful and empty, trained from birth to decorate a powerful man’s arm like a Rolex.
He might’ve been hoping to marry me off to one them, to tie our bloodlines and secure loyalty. But I entertained none of it.
The food was excellent, the company exhausting. Thankfully, Jack gave me good intel—details Luca had wanted confirmed before tightening the ranks at our dinner tonight. At least the man wasn’t just posturing.
I endured it all with a polite nod and the occasional smirk, careful not to let even a flicker of irritation—or interest—show. Both were weaknesses that men like Jack would try to exploit.
By midafternoon, Rory and I boarded the jet back to Manhattan.
Henri kept me updated the entire way. There was still no sign of Lyla.
DarkMatter had swept the theater from top to bottom, checked every hallway, every camera, every alley. Still nothing. Her phone remained off. Her digital trail had gone cold.
Smart little mouse.
Or maybe just lucky.
Either way, I didn’t like it.
We landed just after five p.m.
I had enough time to get back to the penthouse, clean up, and suit up for tonight’s dinner with Luca and the men from Xyst. Whatever ceremony the old man had in mind, it would go down tonight, for better or worse.
Then, and only then, could I get back to the only thing that mattered.
Finding her.
Luca Genovese’s mansion sat like a fortress on the northern edge of Long Island.
It was a majestic, old stone structure with wrought-iron gates and sprawling lawns.
Guards with trained eyes and earpieces were stationed throughout the property.
Inside, the place was all mahogany and marble.
Chandeliers glittered over the long dining table that could seat twelve but tonight held just seven.
Luca and I sat at opposite ends.
Lucian, Lachlan, Gabriel, and Julian filled the center seats along either side. Rory took the end closest to me, silent and watchful. The Xyst guys looked sharp in dark jackets, but their eyes betrayed their tension.
When the main course was served, Luca raised a glass of wine. “Welcome, gentlemen—to the syndicate and everything that comes with it.”
A soft chorus of polite responses followed. Forks scraped plates. Wine flowed. Conversation stayed surface-level—at first.
As the servers were clearing away our plates, Luca leaned back and swirled the wine in his glass. “So, Nikolai…what’s the update on your little stripper?”
The air shifted.
Every man at the table stilled, waiting to see how I’d respond.
My voice came out cold. “She’s gone. Disappeared after her rehearsal at the theater last night, but then, you already know that, don’t you?”
Luca tilted his head and smirked. “So, you and Delgado both lost her?”
I picked up my glass and took a long sip, working to keep my temper in check. Luca was trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t going to bite. “Yes, she gave all of us the slip.”
Luca chuckled deeply. “Maybe she’s not as credulous as you thought.”
I set the glass down with a quiet click. “I’m handling it.”
He nodded, his eyes twinkling like a snake’s. “Of course you are.”
I shifted the conversation. “But that’s not why we’re here.”
Gabriel leaned forward slightly. “Mind telling us exactly why we are here, what your intentions are?”
I regarded them all solemnly. “War is coming to our doorstep, and I fired a shot across their bow.”
He and the other Xyst men visibly stiffened.
“Delgado’s not just pushing dope and trafficking bodies.
He was cocky enough to steal from me . First, his men hit the Moretti’s warehouse on the docks, and now he intercepted one of my shipments from some Turkish friends.
MS-13 isn’t satisfied with taking Harlem.
They want the docks. The clubs. They want everything the old families built and much more. ”
Julian tapped his fingers against his glass, then stopped.
“It’s time to become made men, gentlemen,” I said.
Lachlan frowned. “What? We’re supposed to just join up? Start calling each other brother and forget we were just regular guys running a club?”
“You crossed that line a long time ago,” I said, propping my elbows on the table and clasping my hands together.
“Like I said yesterday, you chose to step into the darkness when you opened that basement casino and started selling privacy to powerful men.” I chuckled and leaned back.
“You invited the devil to your table. Don’t act surprised he raised the stakes. ”
Lucian wiped his mouth with a napkin.
But I didn’t give him time to argue. “You’re out of options. Walk through the damn door, or walk away and live with whatever’s coming for you.”
Luca swirled his wineglass again, clearly enjoying the show. “He’s right, boys. The moment you touched blood money, you signed a contract.”
I leaned forward.
“From this point forward, there are rules,” I said, my voice calm but razor sharp. “Orders are never questioned. Loyalty is everything. You do what you’re told, when you’re told, or you die for it. That’s not bravado. That’s how this works.”
Gabriel clasped his hands together, leaning his elbows on the table, and swallowed hard.
“You keep your business close and your mouth shut,” I went on. “You protect the family. You protect each other. You don’t take money from politicians we don’t own. You don’t start side hustles. You don’t fuck someone else’s woman. Ever. And if I find out you did—”
“You’ll end them,” Luca said easily. “Just like you should.”
I made eye contact with each man one by one. “You don’t get to half-ass this. The moment you take the oath, it becomes your life. You’ll be watched, followed, and tested. Every move matters.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “And who’s our boss? You? Or him?”
He tilted his head toward Luca.
“Luca handles the politics, the unions, the old-world business,” I said flatly. “I run the digital underworld—the money, the networks, the intel. Luca’s the face. I’m the man behind the curtain. And you? You’re mine.”
Luca lifted his glass to me, pleased.
A server stepped in with dessert—some old-school Italian pastry I couldn’t name. Plates were passed out and coffee poured. Whiskey followed.
None of the guys reached for their forks.
Luca sipped his espresso. “Eat, boys. It’s not your last meal.”
“Yet,” I muttered, my tone dry as a bone.
“So…what happens now?” Julian asked, raising a brow.
“Now you decide—stay or go,” I said.
“And if we decide to go?” Lucian asked.
Luca smiled slowly. “Then we’ll know not to set a place at the table.”
Rory pushed his seat back, tossed his napkin neatly beside his empty dessert plate, and stood. Only he and Luca had enjoyed the creamy concoction. He gave Luca a respectful nod. “Thank you for dinner, sir.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not joining us for the festivities?”
Rory’s mouth curved into a slight smile. “Nikolai’s my brother, my boss, and the only man I take orders from. You don’t need to question where I stand.”
Luca seemed satisfied. “Good man.”
Rory’s gaze swept the room once. “I’ll hold down the fort and make sure you’re not disturbed.”
He turned without another word, heading for the main hall.
With that, Luca rose slowly and stepped away from the table. “Gentlemen,” he said smoothly, “shall we?”
He led the way, and the rest of us followed in silence. We moved through the enormous home in a loose line. He led us down hallways and through large gathering rooms with heavy furniture and marble floors, then down a wide stairwell. The temperature dropped as we descended to the lower level.
The Xyst men—who were usually relaxed, borderline cocky—had gone quiet, tense with anticipation.
At the bottom, we followed Luca down another hallway, our footsteps echoing across the polished hardwood. Then he turned the corner, opened a thick double door, and stepped inside.
The space, caught between eras, was a private library by design and a gaming room by feel, but tonight it served a far older function. This was a place of reckoning. A place of ritual.
Baroque arches framed the ceiling, their carved cherry wood stained a deep, dark hue. Ornate gold sconces cast flickering shadows along the paneled walls. The air carried the distinct scent of incense. It was a fragrance of reverence. Of death and devotion.
Luca stopped a few paces from the door and turned. We came to a halt in front of him.
At the center of the room, a few feet away from us, stood a long table styled like a Catholic altar.
White linen, perfectly smooth, was draped perfectly across its surface—an illusion of purity.
Atop the cloth sat a stack of saint cards, a brass candle lighter, several thick candles that were already burning low, and a ceremonial blade—its handle carved from bone, its edge gleaming in the light.
This wasn’t a room for business.
It was a room for blood.
Luca ran his thumb across his lip and scrutinized the little group. Lucian and Lachlan stood side by side, Gabriel and Julian behind them. “You’ll all take the oath in due time. But before we speak of loyalty, you should know what Nikolai and I know.”
The Xyst men shifted uneasily.
Luca glanced at me and gave a nod. I stepped around the men, turned to face them, steepled my fingers, and bowed my head—gathering my thoughts before looking up.
“Before we go any further, I want you to know that we’ve done our homework,” I said, meeting each of their eyes in turn.
“Dug through your backgrounds and records. Talked to the right people. Found things even you might not know about yourselves. This wasn’t about finding secrets—it was about knowing who we’re bringing into the fold. ”
Luca stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, then gestured toward the brothers. “Let’s start with the Irish ones.”
Lucian’s jaw clenched. Lachlan crossed his arms, a wary expression on his face.
“Have you two ever thought about your surname?” Luca asked. The brothers glanced at each other, confused.
“There are names that carry weight in this world,” Luca continued.
“Yours is one of them. Byrnes is more than a surname—it’s a bloodline with roots deep in the Irish underworld, a family name that has a long, blood-soaked legacy in both Ireland and Boston.
A name your parents tried to bury.” He let those words hang in the air for a moment.
“But it’s time you learn the truth. Your parents worked like hell to walk away from all of it.
They moved you as boys to a forgotten town in the Irish countryside.
Gave up everything—the wealth, the power, their birthright.
They took up sheepherding, yarn making, embracing the quiet life.
They wanted nothing to do with the underworld.
Didn’t want you two anywhere near the violence. ”
Lucian looked stricken. “My mother never said—”
“They thought that if they raised you simply,” I said, “far from the cities, far from the family, they could break the chain of violence they’d lived under their entire lives. And yet here you are—right where fate wanted you.”
Luca smirked. “Your uncle’s name is Jack Byrnes. Boston Irish. Owns half the Seaport District and all the unions north of here. He’s the real deal—and he’s been watching you since you came to the States.”
Lachlan muttered a curse.
“You boys made your own choices,” I reminded them again.
“Built a club with a casino below it. Decided to cater to the wealthy and the well-connected. Made deals with the kind of men your parents ran from. You thought you were staying in the gray, but there’s no gray in this world.
Just light—and the dark you stepped into willingly. ”
“Jack’s ready to bring you into his inner circle,” Luca said.
“He knew exactly who you were the second your names hit his radar. And while he’s letting you swear fealty to Nik, to the syndicate, make no mistake—you’re Byrnes men.
And once this war with Delgado ends, you’ll serve under the family flag.
You’re joining with the full weight of your family legacy. ”
Lucian stepped back as if he’d been sucker punched. Lachlan ran a hand through his hair, swearing again under his breath.
Luca turned his attention to Gabriel. “Now, you.”
Gabriel met his stare but said nothing.
“We traced you back through a string of foster homes. Abandoned at age two. No real record before that.” Luca shrugged. “But you’ve survived. And you’ve always been loyal to Anastasia.”
Gabriel gave a faint nod. “That won’t change.”
Luca’s eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary before moving on to Julian. “You’re the enigma.”
Julian raised a brow.
“Your father’s doing life in Sicily for killing your mother,” Luca said. “No other living relatives we could find. No childhood friends. No school records after age sixteen.”
“I got bored. Dropped out,” Julian said.
Luca stepped closer. “You work in the shadows. That’s fine. We need men like you. But know this—if you ever think of betraying this syndicate, we’ll bury you where no shadow can reach.”
Julian smirked. “I don’t betray men who treat me right.”
Luca didn’t smile back. “See that you don’t.”
The room went quiet again, the candle flames dancing on the table beside us.
I stood with my arms folded, watching each of them absorb the truth of their new circumstances. They were part of our legacy now.
Luca moved in front of the altar and lit another candle.
All eyes turned to the etched blade and stack of saint cards laid out on the cloth.
“Gather round,” he said quietly. “It’s time.”