Claim

“So the word is out,” Lyon said. That wasn’t good. It meant Russia was assured of their victory, that they were already making preparations for Lyon’s removal.

“To some degree,” Roman said.

“I’m still working on the player — or players — behind him, but I have a feeling Chicago isn’t the end of it.”

They were approaching the bear enclosure where a handful of people stood watching two grizzly bears behind a wall of open glass.

Roman stopped before they reached the crowd and turned to look at him. “Go on.”

“New York is the biggest bratva territory in the country. Why would they take over Chicago and leave New York alone?” Lyon asked.

“You think they’ll come for New York next?” Roman asked.

“I think Chicago is just the first piece of the puzzle,” Lyon said. “I think they believe it’s the easiest piece to claim because of the unrest we’ve had since Viktor made it known he was passing the torch to me.”

Roman resumed walking and didn’t speak again until they were past the group of people observing the bears. “New York will be next.”

“That would be my guess,” Lyon said.

New York was stable under the leadership of Roman’s father, but like Viktor, Igor was of an advanced age. Unlike Viktor, Igor had an obvious heir in Roman. However, his disinterest in appointing Roman as his successor meant Russia would probably move sooner rather than later.

Roman sighed. “This complicates things.”

“Yes,” Lyon said. Roman would either have to accelerate his bid to topple his father or he would have to lay low and hope his father came to his senses and handed the crown to Roman.

Either way left an opening for Russia to step in and take over.

“What do you need from me?” Roman asked.

“I need you to kill Ivan Demenok.”

Lyon wasn’t surprised by the ensuing stunned silence. He was asking Roman to defy every rule in the bratva playbook, to turn traitor against the organization and everything it stood for.

Loyalty. Honor.

Except those ideals were just a figment of their imagination as long as someone like Ivan worked to undermine rightful bratva leadership, as long as Russia worked with him.

There was no honor in dishonesty.

“You’re crazy,” Roman said.

“No.” Lyon kept his voice steady. Kira was right: this was what made sense. Lyon just needed to make Roman see it. “Ivan is in place to ease the transition to Russian leadership. They’ve been grooming him for years to clear the path, eliminate any possible replacement to Viktor.”

“Like you,” Roman said.

“Like me.”

They continued to the seal enclosure and stopped. It was mostly empty, the vast majority of visitors choosing to take only a cursory look on their way from the bears to the penguins.

“Why don’t you kill him yourself?” Roman asked. “As pakhan, you have resources I don’t have.”

“Those resources come with too much attention. If anyone thinks that I’ve killed Ivan, I’ll be dead inside of twenty-four hours,” Lyon said. “Someone else has to do it, and it has to be done in such a way that I have an airtight alibi, with every one of my resources accounted for at the time of his death.”

Saying it out loud gave Lyon fresh pause. He was committing treason against the bratva. If he was wrong about Roman, Lyon was a dead man.

But he didn’t believe he was wrong about Roman.

“Killing Ivan won’t eliminate Russia as a threat,” Roman said.

“No, but it will complicate matters for them. They won’t have an easy replacement for me, not one the men will accept without question.”

“You think they’ll abort the plan to take over Chicago?” Roman asked. “To move on to New York?”

“No.” Lyon wasn’t fool enough to think it would be that easy. “But it will force them to regroup, give me time to figure out who’s behind the plan in Russia. And that will give you time to formulate your own plan for New York.”

Roman stopped to look at the seals as they slid into the water. “Any plans I have for New York will be irrelevant if I’m caught murdering a member of the Chicago Spies,”

Lyon turned to look at him. “Which is why you can’t get caught.”