Page 43 of Brutal Union
“You coming?” I toss over my shoulder.
He nods, rolling his eyes as he slips on his all-black Nike Air Forces, then falls in step behind me without another word.
The elevator dingsas we reach the top floor of Petrov Industries, our business headquarters and version of the financial district the Yakuza use in Japan. The building is in the heart of Thirty-fourth Street, right next to the world’s largestMacy’sand from the outside looking in, we’re all business people. No one knows what actually goes on and no one cares as long as it is not loud, bluntly obvious and we pay the monthly 1.2 million dollars it takes to keep the lights on.
At the front desk, Lily is curled in her chair like a kitten, legs tucked beneath her and nose buried deep inThe Shining. A highlighter’s tucked behind her ear, and a half-empty cup of matcha balances dangerously close to her keyboard. When my boots hit the floor her eyes dart up to me, and then flicker in confusion to Sho, who is just a step behind me.
Lily’s always been like that. She’s the closest thing the boys and I have to a childhood friend, given that her father worked for ours and we’ve always operated in the same circles because of that. If I had friends, Lily would be my closest, because I would do anything to protect her. We all would. Especially Aleksandr.
She’s a certified genius and my favorite kind of weirdo—the kind who wore Converse with her prom dress and askedmeto promour senior year. Lily loves everything frilly and girly—especiallyThe Powerpuff Girls—but will turn around and quote James Baldwin or Thoreau mid-conversation without missing a beat. That duality? That’s why I adore her.
After her father died four years ago, we covered her tuition to Yale—double major, political science and British literature. And when she graduated we paid her an absurd amount of money to work as our personal secretary.
“Hey, Lil.” I stride up to the desk, trying not to limp. “Nik in there?”
Her smile brightens as she shuts the book and sets it down slowly, the cover landing with a thud that makes her wince. She’s in a yellow button up sweater and dark denim jeans. Her black wand curls bounce lightly as she flips a page, nose ring catching the light as she glances back at the office.
“No, he’s not,” she says carefully.
“Perfect.”
But before I can push the door open, her voice softens, catching at the edges. “Nadi?”
“Yeah Lil?” I call back, my hand resting on the doorknob.
“You good?” Her eyes flick to Sho, then back to me, like she’s silently asking me to blink twice if I’m in danger.
“Never better, Lil.” I try to smile, but I know it lands tight and brittle. “Get the knuckleheads in here, would ya?”
She nods slowly, still watching Sho like he might spontaneously combust. I push through the double doors into the office before either of them can say anything else.
The office looks the same way my father, Boris had it when he ran the Bratva. All the deep reds and dark browns run into each other across the room, but in corners there are hints of gold giving the space a luxury feel it never needed. The only difference is the massive mahogany desk that dominates the center, glossy and completely clashing with the rest of the room, but it is the desk Nikolai wanted when he ascended to power. He fucking loves this desk. A part of my desire to break it. It’s my desk anyway now.
Sho steps in behind me, slowly closing the door behind him.
“Why was your front desk girl looking like she was one deep breath away from pressing a panic button?” he asks, moving deeper into the room.
I walk toward the desk, my fingers grazing the edge before I settle against it. “Because Lily’s my best friend.”
Sho flops down into the black leather seat across from the desk, a large smile spreading across his face like a disease. “Have you been talking about me?”
I don’t answer immediately. I reach for a file on the corner of the desk, flipping it open like I didn’t hear the question. But my ears are already burning.
Sho leans in closer, and I can feel the excitement ringing off of his body.
“Youhavebeen talking about me,” he says, delighted. “You told her about me. Aboutus.”
“I didn’t sayus—” I start, defensive, flustered.
He laughs. Fully laughs, loud and smug. I want to gag him with the butt of my gun. “God, you like me.”
“Itolerateyou,” I bite back.
“You like me,” he sing-songs, dragging a chair around and dropping into it with far too much satisfaction. “Lily knows. I know. Honestly, the only one still in denial is you.”
I glare at him. “Sho, I swear to God?—”
Before my brain can register a face, muscle memory kicks in. I pull the blade from my thigh holster and let it fly.
