Page 110 of Shameless Royalty

Drakos gives him a look. “Let’s not pretend we don’t all know where this is going, Mikhailov.”

Dmitri’s smirk widens. “Fair enough.”

The room is quiet again, but this time, it’s not uncertainty that lingers in the air. It’s something heavier.

Finality.

We all knew this was coming—had known it since the second Vito made his first move against us. The difference now is that we aren’t just talking about cutting off the head of the snake. We’re burning the whole fucking pit.

Giovanni leans forward, his elbows resting on the polished wood of the table. His dark eyes flick between all of us, calculating, considering. “The coup is still happening at my wedding,” he says, voice steady, final. “That hasn’t changed, right?”

“No,” my father agrees, exhaling slowly. “What’s changed is that it won’t just be you takin’ the throne.” His gaze sweeps across the table, landing on each of us one by one. “Vito dies. But not just by Giovanni’s hand.”

A slow smirk stretches across Ion’s lips. “We’re all making this kill.”

Dmitri nods once, sharp. “It sends a message.”

Mihai folds his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “No one will question the legitimacy of the transfer of power if the other Crowns are the ones to take him out.”

I glance at Giovanni, watching the way his jaw tightens, the way something dark flickers in his gaze. He’s wanted this for years—wanted his father’s blood on his hands, wanted to tear him down and build something new in his place. But now, he sees what we all see. That this isn’t about one man’s vengeance anymore.

This is about erasing a threat that’s been growing in the shadows, about making sure this empire doesn’t fall into the wrong fucking hands.

Giovanni exhales, nodding. “We take him out together.”

My father shifts his attention, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s only part of the problem.” He looks between the four of us, and then his gaze flicks to Konstantin. “Vito has made alliances, and we need to start takin’ them out.”

Dmitri leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests like a king surveying his court. “Mainly, Sergei Volkov.”

Nikolai tenses beside me, his expression darkening. “The Volkovs need to be handled.”

Handled. That’s one way to put it.

“We can’t just kill Sergei and call it a day,” Mihai adds. “The Volkov family has deep roots. If we don’t rip them out completely, they’ll just grow back.”

Da nods. “Which is why you five,” his gaze flicks between us, “are going to take care of them.”

Giovanni straightens slightly. “All of them?”

My father’s jaw tightens. “Wipe them out covertly.”

Silence stretches, thick and heavy.

My pulse thrums in my ears, but I don’t argue. There’s nothing to argue about. We knew this would be bloody, knew it would take more than one kill to end this. The Volkovs have been a problem for years, but if Sergei has thrown in with Vito, it means he’s betting on taking the Russian Crown once Dmitri is out of the way.

That isn’t fucking happening.

Nikolai cracks his neck. “Where do we start?”

Dmitri exhales slowly, watching us with something unreadable in his expression. “Sergei operates out of Rhode Island,” he says. “But his biggest strongholds are here in Europe. London. Berlin. Amsterdam.” He taps his fingers against the table. “You’ll need to move fast.”

Mihai lets out a low chuckle. “You make it sound like it’s going to be difficult.”

Dmitri smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s not going to be easy. Sergei has been preparing for war. He’s not going to roll over and die just because we showed up.”

“Good,” Giovanni murmurs, something dark curling around his words. “I was hoping for a challenge.”

Da exhales, rubbing his temple. “Christ, I should’ve retired years ago.” Then he turns his attention to Konstantin, who has been quiet throughout the entire conversation. “This will be your final test, lad.”

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