Page 44 of Hunt Me, Daddy

“I know what I’m doing,” I said.

Sergei’s expression did not change, but the silence around him almost seemed to deepen.

Maxim finally looked away, reaching for the bottle. “Then do it faster.”

That, at least, was an order I could obey.

The meeting moved on because empires did not pause for one man’s private disaster. There were dock payments to discuss, a problem with an insurance policy in the North End, one of Nikolai’s fighters being stupid enough to flirt with a bookmaker’s wife, and an upcoming shipment Aleksei insisted was completely legitimate. By the time we stood, the mood had loosened enough for Nikolai to complain about hunger.

“You ate an hour ago,” Sergei said.

“That was emotional support food.”

“For what emotion?”

“Being in a meeting.”

Aleksei buttoned his jacket. “Meetings are difficult for him. They require sitting and not hitting anyone.”

“I can sit.”

“You cracked a chair last month.”

“It looked weak.”

I slid my phone into my pocket. “To be fair, that chair had been asking for it.”

Nikolai pointed at me. “See? Ivan understands.”

“I understand structural failure. That is not the same thing as supporting you.”

“You’re all jealous of my strength.”

Sergei moved toward the door. “I am jealous of your ability to survive with so little brain activity.”

Nikolai laughed. “That was definitely a joke.”

Sergei smirked and opened the door. “No. It wasn’t.”

We spilled back into the front room of the Iron Wolf, where music and laughter rose around us like nothing dangerous had been said behind closed doors. Maxim lingered at my side as the others drifted toward the bar.

“You will tell me when I need to know more,” he said.

It was not a question.

“Yes.”

His gaze held mine. “Before it becomes a war.”

That was the problem with Maxim. He could not see a spark without imagining the city burning around it. Unfortunately, he was often correct.

I nodded once. “Before.”

He left me there. Sergei did not, however. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching the room as if we were not about to have a conversation. “The relevant street,” he said.

I sighed. “You are going to make this difficult.”

“You already did.”