Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
KIRILL
After I drop Lev off with Emilia, I’m back on the road, the truck eating up miles toward the Whitlocks’ home while my head is somewhere else entirely.
Sloane’s face won’t leave me alone. The way her mouth tightened when she told me we weren’t friends, like she needed to believe it.
Not friends.
What a joke.
But maybe she’s right. Because the thoughts I have of her are anything but friendly.
Friends don’t imagine fucking each other, and they definitely don’t stay up late at night and wonder what it would be like to wake up next to that person.
To kiss them, to hold them, to say things they have never told anyone else.
So no, maybe we’re not just friends. We’re something a lot more complicated.
And she knows it too. I felt it. The way she shivered when I got close, the way her breath hitched when my mouth touched her skin, the way she could barely look at me when I told her I wanted to give her the world. There was nothing indifferent about any of that.
But she’s right to stay away, no matter the reasons. I can’t offer her the one thing she needs: safety. Not the real kind. Not in my world.
If she found out who I am, she would run, and I wouldn’t even be able to blame her.
But the thought of her running makes something black and ugly curl in my chest. No matter what, I’d be there keeping her safe, even from a distance.
As the road turns off up ahead, I take it, the Whitlocks’ land stretching out on either side. By the time the gates come into view, my grip has already tightened on the wheel, dragging my focus back where it needs to be: on this meeting and the trouble circling our family.
I roll through the gates, passing the little bed and breakfast and heading straight for the main house set deep on the property. When I pull up in front of the towering house and cut the engine, another car pulls in behind me. Then two more. My brothers are here.
Konstantin gets out first, eyes sweeping over the property once before landing on Aleksei. The look he gives him is clear enough: don’t start trouble.
Aleksei catches it and laughs like the whole thing amuses him.
“Ya ponil,” he says. I understand.
Hopefully he does, because if he ruins this, Konstantin won’t hesitate to put him down.
Konstantin turns his laser focus on me, studying my face like he can see the tension crawling under my skin.
“Are you alright, brother? Are you sleeping?”
No. Not even close. Between the nightmares with that baby crying and Sloane taking up permanent space in my head, I don’t remember what real sleep feels like.
“I’m fine.” The lie comes easy. Easier than the truth.
“Okay.” He nods once. “Paydom.” Let’s go.
We move as a unit, up the stone steps toward the front door, Konstantin in the lead. He reaches for the bell and presses it once.
A moment later, the door opens. An older woman in a maid’s uniform stands there, her gaze moving over Konstantin first, then the rest of us.
“Welcome.” Her smile is polite, but guarded. “Mr. Whitlock and his family are waiting for you. Down the left hall.” She points that way. “The door all the way at the end.”
Konstantin gives her a short nod. “Thank you.”
We step inside, past the grand foyer and the guard posted there, then take a left into a wide hallway. When we reach the door at the end, Konstantin knocks once. From the other side, Harlan Whitlock’s voice carries through.
“Come in, gentlemen.”
This better be a productive meeting, or it won’t end well for them.
As soon as we walk in, the whole nest of roaches is already there. Harlan sits behind his desk like a king on a cheap throne, Jace at his shoulder. Greer, with that cocky little smirk, is settled back in an armchair. The other three sons—Nash, Theo, and Cole—line the suede sofa.
Cole eyes us like he’s begging someone to swing first. That’s what happens when you’re young and stupid. Except he’s around thirty, which is old enough to know better.
“Welcome.” Harlan nods, running a hand through his gray goatee. “We’re grateful you could join us.”
“It seemed necessary.” Konstantin lets out a hint of a smirk as he takes one of the empty sofas.
Aleksei and I sit with him while Anton chooses the wall, arms crossed, gaze moving over every inch of the room. He’s already counted exits and cameras, I’d bet my life on it.
“It certainly is,” Harlan says.
“Well, it seems to us there’s been a misunderstanding,” Konstantin goes on.
“What sort of misunderstanding?” Harlan’s gaze narrows.
“The kind that involves your family running guns on our turf, with our clients,” Aleksei cuts in, and I catch the exact second Konstantin’s jaw tics.
“I’m sure your intention was not to steal from us,” Konstantin adds, voice calm but edged.
The svolich laughs. “We all need a little competition in life. It makes things more fun, don’t you think?”
Konstantin doesn’t answer, just watches him, and Harlan mistakes the silence for invitation.
“Look, son—”
“I am not your son.” Konstantin leans forward, his gaze lethal, tone vicious.
On the sofa, Cole damn near vibrates with the urge to start something, blue eyes sharpening as he edges closer to the front of his seat. I’d be happy to give him what he’s asking for.
Nash cuts him a hard stare, and he eases back, but barely.
“In any case…” Harlan adjusts like he’s trying to keep control of the room. “I respect you and your family as businessmen, but you have to respect us too. Our family has been in this business for generations, and we aren’t going anywhere. So instead of fighting about this, I say we work together.”
“We do not work well with others,” Aleksei throws in with wry smirk.
“You don’t say,” Greer scoffs, and Harlan shoots her a warning look that has her rolling her eyes.
“Fine, Daddy. I promise to be a good girl.” Her glare cuts to Aleksei, and he meets it head-on, just as savage.
“Look, you’re still new here in New Jersey,” Konstantin continues. “And maybe they do things differently down in Texas, but here, businessmen respect each other’s turfs. Those are our clients, and we don’t take kindly to people who poach them.”
“Oh, I very much do respect you, Mr. Marinov.” Harlan’s mouth curves like he’s trying to charm him.
“Your reputation precedes you, and I know all about your family legacy, as I’m sure you know about mine.
My father’s father was in this line of work, his father before that, and so on.
We’re hardworking people and a family business, just like yours.
I’m sure you can appreciate that we need to feed our families too. ”
“You can feed whatever family you like.” Konstantin leans back. “Just not with our money.”
“Look,” Jace jumps in. “You’ve got a supply problem, and we’ve got a solution.”
His mouth pulls up in a smug half-smile, and I can see Konstantin’s patience wearing thin. Mine too, in fact. I’ve been itching for any reason to kill him just for touching Sloane.
Konstantin’s muscles go rigid, tension running through him even as he smiles. “We do not have a problem. But you will if you don’t stop selling to our customers.”
Harlan sighs, like we’re being unreasonable. “Come on, now. This is business. You should understand this is not meant as disrespect.”
“You don’t belong here.” Konstantin’s hand curls at his side, knuckles pale.
“But we’re here anyway.” Harlan flips his hands in the air, leaning back in his chair. “And we aren’t going anywhere.”
My desire to see this entire family dead has turned into a priority.
“Now, we wanted this meeting as a goodwill gesture so we can talk like men,” Harlan adds, like he is the reasonable one in the room.
“If we can’t do that, there’s nothin’ we need to discuss.
My enterprise, everything my family built, isn’t goin’ anywhere, and I hope you can appreciate that, being who you are.
Blackthorn is here to stay, and our roots may be in Texas, but we’ve put some down here too. ”
He lifts his chin slightly as he continues.
“And you should know, I help my friends. If that’s what we become, we can help each other.
I’ve got contacts miles long, people from all walks of life who’d be willin’ to help you any way you want.
Contracts, land, new ports, whatever you need.
No messy red tape. All you need to do is accept that we’ll be supplying the people you can’t.
At least for the time being. They need what you don’t have. ”
“We have it,” Konstantin says, the lie effortless, not a trace of doubt in his voice.
When he rises, we do the same, the friction in the room tightening with every second.
“This was a productive meeting,” my brother says. “It is important to know where your adversaries stand.”
Greer snickers as she stands, that smirk back in place, and saunters closer. “Now, I hope that wasn’t some kind of threat.”
Konstantin’s mouth tilts up as he looks down at her. “You take it however you want to, Ms. Whitlock.”
Her stare sharpens, mouth flattening. “Oh, I will. You’d better believe it.”
“Now, now,” Harlan cuts in, stepping forward just as Cole jumps to his feet to stand beside his sister, like he might actually do something.
“Better keep yourself far away from my sister.” A muscle in Cole’s chin twitches.
Konstantin laughs and glances Harlan’s way. “You have yourself a bulldog, it appears. Good for you.”
Cole’s nostrils flare, ready to snap. I almost hope he does.
Harlan’s hand lands on his son’s shoulder, fingers pressing down. “He gets excited when his family is threatened. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Of course I do.” Konstantin flicks a hand in the air like it’s nothing.
But I know him well enough to see what sits beneath the calm. In his mind, he has already killed Cole twice over and is deciding how many times more he wants to do it.
“You all have yourselves a good day.” Harlan moves toward the door, clearly eager to walk us out before the charge in the room explodes into something he cannot contain. “And please take a bottle of whiskey on your way out. We make it back home. It’s our specialty.”
“We don’t drink whiskey,” Konstantin answers, and the brief tightening of Harlan’s face is almost satisfying.
“Very well, then. Have a pleasant day. We hope we made our position clear and, as I said, once you have things in order, we can step back.”
“Oh, your position is quite clear to us.” Konstantin turns as we head for the hall.
We walk out together, and once we are outside and far enough from the house, Konstantin looks at each of us, danger humming under his words.
“That was a declaration of war. And I know exactly how we will hurt them.”
“How?” Anton asks, eyes bright with that clinical curiosity.
“Not here.” Konstantin claps his shoulder. “We will talk later. For now, we reach out to other contacts. We get the weapons, and we get them now.”
I peer back once at the Whitlock estate, at the pretty facade and all the arrogance inside it.
War it is, then.