Page 11 of Kane
Leadership? That was Milo and Loren’s domain. They made the plans. I executed them. Simple. Bloody.Effective.
Now I’m the pakhan, and nothing feels simple anymore.
“You good?” Padraig asks, his Irish lilt cutting through the low hum of the engine. He’s got that easy posture, but I know him too well. His right hand rests near the concealed piece under his jacket.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But we’re here. And that’s all there is to it.”
I let the silence stretch for another minute, staring at the diner’s ridiculous pastel walls and exposed brick. My mind drifts back to the old days. Me at seventeen, fresh off a street brawl, blood on my knuckles and a grin on my face as Milo clapped me on the back. “You’re the hammer, little brother,” Milo would say. “We’re the architects.” Loren would just nod, that quiet approval in his eyes that meant more than any words.
They carried the weight. I got to swing it.
Now the whole damn structure sits on my shoulders, cracked and unstable, and every rival in the city can smell the weakness.
A sleek silver Mercedes pulls into the lot. Padraig straightens…
“There they are,” Padraig says. “Viktor and three others. Looks clean.”
My focus snaps back to the present. I watch as Viktor Volkov steps out: tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored coat that screams money and control. His men fan out behind him, professional but not flashy. No immediate guns drawn. Good. I kill the engine.
“Eyes open,” I tell Padraig. “Anything feels off, we paint the motherfucking walls red.”
We step out into the bright afternoon. The sun hits my face, too warm for the chill running down my spine. I adjust my suit jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of the holster against my ribs. My black hair catches the light, a few silver strands reminding me I’m not the reckless kid anymore…
I’m now the man who buries brothers and takes their throne.
We cross the street. Viktor spots us and gives a small nod—no smile, just recognition.
Inside, the diner smells like burnt coffee, maple syrup, and that artificial “fresh” scent they spray to cover grease.
The place is bright, too bright, with string lights and plants hanging from the ceiling like it’s trying to cosplay as some Brooklyn transplant. Fake as hell and don’t I know it.
Viktor slides into a booth near the back, away from the windows.Smart. His men take positions at nearby tables. Padraig and I sit opposite him. I let the silence settle for a beat, studying the Downtown Devil himself.
Viktor looks calm, but there’s steel under it.
“Nice place,” I say, voice low and edged. I gesture at the ridiculous décor… a mason jar full of fairy lights on the table. “Very…authentic. You bring me to a hipster fucking museum totalk business, Volkov? I’m a genuine man. I can spot fakes and phonies a mile off. This whole setup screams bullshit.”
Viktor’s eyes narrow slightly. He bristles, jaw tightening just enough for me to notice.Good. I want him off-balance.
“And I can spot liars and bluffers too, Kamedov,” Viktor barks. “You walk in here like you own the city, but we both know you’re still finding your footing after what happened to Milo and Loren.”
The air thickens.
My hand twitches toward my side.
I shoot Padraig a quick look—ready—and he shifts almost imperceptibly, his body coiled. The two of us could end this in seconds if it goes south. My pulse hammers steady, the old familiar rage bubbling under my skin. Part of me wants it to pop off. At least then I’d know what to do with my hands.
But Viktor raises a hand slowly, palm open.
“Easy. This isn’t a setup,” Viktor says. “No bullshit power play. I genuinely wanted to meet you, Kane. Offer my condolences for your brothers. They were…formidable. Their loss is a blow to all of us who value strength in this city.”
I lean back, studying him.
The words sound right, but I’ve heard enough pretty lies in my life.
“There’s more to this meeting than condolences,” I say. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Volkov. Say what you really want or we’re done wasting daylight.”
He watches me for a long moment. The waitress approaches but one of his men waves her off and the smart girl doesn’t push it.
