Page 103 of Feral King

JULIAN

The room suddenly feels cold.

I can feel it, the shift of nine men making mental calculations in real time, changing strategy, determining who’s an enemy and who’s an ally.

Baranov speaks fist.

“This is irregular,” he says. “The Triad partnership was presented as a settled matter. And I was under the impression Mrs. Lee was here to simply confirm the matter in person. And now we’re being asked to change leadership as a condition of an alliance that we haven’t voted on? No. I won’t vote on this tonight. It needs to be discussed first, in detail.”

Federov nods. “Agreed. Yang signed the deal with Julian. If Yang’s representative is rewriting terms all of a sudden, we need to understand why before we commit to anything.”

“And where is Yang?” Kuznetsov asks, looking at the side door where Lee exited, as if she might step back through atany moment. “Why isn’t he here? This is the largest Bratva-Triad negotiation in a generation, and we’re doing it through an intermediary?”

“I agree,” adds Baranov. “Surely, he can make an appearance through a video call?”

“You heard her,” I say. “She says he’sno longer available.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” asks Federov.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

I watch Alexander out of the corner of my eye. He remains seated and still, expressionless, as if he’s watching matters unfold exactly the way he’d planned. Part of me wants to throttle him on the spot.

But before I can do or say anything, the side door opens, and Lee walks back in, bringing an instant air of tension with her.

“I understand there are questions,” she says. She remains standing as she addresses the room, her posture deliberate. “And let me address them simply—Mr. Yang has entrusted the Triad’s North American operations to my discretion. The terms I’ve presented are final. The routes will open under Alexander’s leadership, or they don’t open at all.”

Baranov shakes his head. “That’s not how this works. We don’t accept ultimatums, we negotiate.”

“There is nothing to negotiate,” Lee retorts. Her voice hardens a bit, her diplomatic veneer cracking. Her tone is still cold and even, but she’s no longer speaking with patience, she’s speaking with contempt.

“The Triad’s position is clear—Julian Volkov is a liability. His leadership has produced three assassination attempts in a month, internal family conflict broadcast to the public, and a compromised security apparatus that can’t protect Ms. Thibodeaux at an event run by his organization.”

I shift in my seat, bristling at the mention of Lyra.

“Assassination attempts,” I echo. “Connected to Triad resources. Do you have an answer for me on that matter yet, Lee?”

Her eyes narrow. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Volkov?”

“Where is Yang?” Federov shouts. “I want to speak to him now! We don’t need to communicate by goddamn carrier pigeon. Take out your phone and call him.Now.”

“I will answer the question for the final time. Mr. Yang is unavailable.”

“Explain what that means,” I say. “Explain why the leader of the Triads can’t answer a simple phone call.”

“As I said,” she replies, the contempt in her voice growing more severe, “I am his intermediary. I’m not a mere spokeswoman. I am empowered to make decisions on behalf of the Triad.”

“I don’t give a damn what you are,” I say. “Contact Yang. Now.”

She takes in a slow draw of air through her nose, then sighs heavily.

“Mr. Yang is no longer your concern, Mr. Volkov.”

The room goes silent.

There’s a bit of ambiguity to her choice of words, but I pick up a clear implication.

Yang is gone. And Lee is the one who moved him off the board.