The slow grin that tipped his lips was deadly. “Are we going to do this or what?” He checked his watch. “I’m a very busy man. I got a city to run into the ground.”

Okay. We were doing this.

My stomach was tight. I didn’t have a lot, but I had enough that I felt mildly confident when I said, “I know a little about the work you run, and before you even go there, I’m making it clear—” I looked him dead in the eye. “—I am done.” His gaze hardened a notch, but I felt I needed to make it sink in. “No more rough work. No more surprise visits. No more claiming our women. No more debts or markers or obligations.” My tone lowered. “Done.”

As predicted, he didn’t like that.

Roam’s jaw steeled, and the moment he lifted his hand, his goons stepped forward. “I don’t know where you’re hiding your balls, seeing as the sheer size of them is fucking gargantuan but…” As his goons surrounded him, they reached into their coats, and it was no wonder what they were bracing for. “You don’t make demands. You are not in the position to do much more than beg my forgiveness and offer your eternal servitude. What makes you think I’m going to agree to that?”

Fuck me, he was an asshole.

It was sick, but I had the greatest pleasure in announcing, “Because if you don’t, I’ll make a call. That call will be forwarded, and forwarded again, until you will find yourself stuck in the mud, unable to make movement any which way in your territory without causing some very bothersome trouble for yourself.”

That, I could see, caught his attention.

The cockiness he wore only a moment ago evaporated clean away when his brow lowered. And when I say Roam hesitated, he did just that. “Explain this to me.”

Shit. My pleasure.

“See,” I turned away from him and began to pace as I clarified, “We’re of the same generation, you and I, but we ran with very different ideals. Our morals, oil and water. And while you were out terrorizing for power—” I moved to stand between Sasha and Lev. “—we were making powerful connections, nurturing growing friendships, and solidifying contacts.” I peered at the stoic man. “You think you were my last option?” I snuffled out a laugh. “You were my first.” My tone lowered as my gaze swept the length of him. “Because you were the easiest.”

Roam’s expression steeled. He tutted, lifting his hand and waving it in irritation. “Get to your point, Viktor, and get to it quickly before I tire of you and start decorating this room in my favorite color. Red.”

Okay. Fine. Here goes. “To the east of The Disciples lies Overcoat Army territory. To the west, Soldadas De Satana turf. Directly in front of you? That’s Striking Vipers ground. And to your six, Malocchio terrain.” Roam didn’t react at me spouting the knowledge I’d learned along the way, but I hoped I’d get a reaction from what I was about to tell him. “These stomping grounds of yours are pretty sweet. You got the best location in the best part of town. Must be nice.” I licked my lips and kept my gaze on his when I uttered, “Would be a shame if you were blocked from leaving it.”

The way Roam’s expression changed satisfied me in a way I couldn’t describe.

Sasha uttered a cool, “Would be hard to run business from a ten-block radius.”

“Impossible, even,” added Lev clinically.

Oh, yes. I could see the cogs and gears moving inside his head. He was thinking and thinking hard.

Roam’s expression faltered only a moment before he straightened, then stated an uber-confident, “You’re bluffing.”

Was I though? Was he willing to risk his trade on it? I wasn’t so sure. And from the looks of him, neither was he.

“Am I?” I asked him before turning to Sasha. “Did I sound like I was bluffing?” Sasha shook his head. So, I turned to Lev and asked, “Am I bluffing, brother?”

To which Lev responded a detached, “No. You aren’t. Brother.”

And just to prove it, I jerked my chin toward the men standing off to the side. Without a word between us, they picked up their cells and made the calls, putting each of their devices on speaker.

Alessio turned his phone on speaker. “Roam. Striker here,” greeted the leader of Striking Vipers. “What can I say, my friend? A marker is a marker. It is our way. All debts must be paid.”

And Roam’s jaw flexed.

Then Philippe lifted his own cell. “Greetings and salutations, Roam,” uttered Arthur, the British expat who was the newest face of The Overcoat Army, in his dignified accent. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Chaos and my family go way back. Much further than you and me, I’m afraid.”

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