Page 152 of Fallen Rook

You should be dead, I thought.

“And you promise me all of the Ferrante brothers will be there, so we can arrest them?”

“Yes,” Slava said. “There’s no way in hell Luca would let anyone miss out on the operation. They have to save face. You need to make sure you arrest them before they touch my soldiers, though. I need them.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“Then I return to Vegas after heroically throwing the Ferrante brothers in prison for life. I shove Alex out of the way, assume the throne, and become the pakhan.”

“And Katya?”

“Katya will stay with me”—Slava’s eyes gleamed—“where she belongs.”

Good thing Enzo wasn’t joining the Rasputin clan. And he thought his family were nutcases.

“What will Katya think of it?” I drawled.

“She’ll get used to it.”

“You think?”

“She loves me.” His left eye twitched angrily. “We grew up together, like twins. Did everything together. She loves me, and I love her.”

An empty smile played on my face.

“Is this why you decided to go against your brother?” I asked. “Because you knew the pakhan would never let you be with your biological sister?”

He hesitated. Licked his lips. “Yes. I would do anything for Katya.”

My breakfast roiled in my stomach, begging to be pushed out.

“Anyway. Will everything be ready for us?” Slava worked his jaw back and forth.

“Yes.” I flipped my pad shut.

“Are you sure? All your agents? Backup? Everything?”

“Everything will go smoothly,” I promised tonelessly. “This time next week, the Ferrante brothers will all be in jail.”

I stood and made my way to the door. He remained in his seat, deep in thought.

“It always ends badly, you know?” Slava stared out the window contemplatively. “When gods and mortals get together. Some bloods simply should not mix.”

I halted halfway through the door, glancing behind my shoulder. “Who do you consider the mortals, and who are the gods?”

His pupils locked on mine like the chamber of a gun. “Feds are mortal. They come and go. Made men—now, when forged right, we are gods. Don’t fuck me over, Rothwell. History isn’t kind to people who’ve tried.”

“Oh.” I snapped my fingers on my way out of the room. “One more thing. I almost forgot. About Katya…”

At the sound of her name, Slava sat straighter, the shine returning to his eyes. “What about her?”

“I did a little research before I took you on as an informant, as I do with all family members of my sources. I don’t think you should worry about any of the Ferrante brothers taking her away from you.” I shook my head, about to deliver my knockout hit. “She’s fucking her professor in England. In love with him, too.”

I left work at a quarter to nine—early, in my world. Slipped into my coat and started walking. I didn’t stop until I made it to a polished skyscraper on the Upper East Side.

Luca Ferrante’s residence.

The glitzy reception had three Camorra soldiers loitering around. They stopped me on my way to the elevator.