Page 20 of Feral King

“It’s bullshit,” Ethan says. “You’d think they’d be happy to make money.”

“After a certain point, money doesn’t matter,” I reply. “It’s just a number. Being the man on top; that becomes the new prize.”

Ethan leans forward. “There’s something else.”

“What is a?”

“If the vote flips, or even if Dobrov gets just enough to force a leadership challenge, he won’t be thinking politically—he’ll be thinking tactically. Meaning, he’ll be thinking of ways to dissuadeyoufrom mounting a defense.”

I realize exactly what that entails.

“Lyra.”

He nods. “Think about it. You publicly declared her yours at the gala. That might protect her from Alexander’s bullshit, but it paints a big target on her back. Now everyone knows that you have a weak spot. Imagine if he kidnapped her before the council.”

I hate to agree with him, but Ethan is right. Dobrov wouldn’t be above such tactics, especially if he believes it could bring him closer to the big chair.

I made the decision I did with Lyra to protect her from Alexander and Sophia, not to mention to bring her back into the Volkov fold, and it worked—with all that implies.

“Increase her security detail. Two men, round the clock. Keep it discreet.”

“Already arranged. But Julian,” Ethan says as he sets his glass down, “getting involved with her—if that’s indeed your plan—is dangerous. For both of you. She’s your brother’s ex. People will see it as two brothers having some kind of spat. They’re going to think you’re weak and distracted.”

“Let them think it.”

He sighs. “Julian.”

“I said let them.”

I turn from the window. “Alexander never deserved her. He used her, then tossed her aside when it was convenient for him. And I’m not going to make decisions about who I have at my side based on the opinions of others.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. Ethan has known me long enough to know when a decision isn’t up for debate.

He shifts in his seat.

“What else?”

“The council vote. Family seats count.”

“I know.”

“Right now, it’s you and Alexander as the two Volkov seats. Your stepmother holds a proxy through Alexander. And Anya has a vote, too. If she were to vote for Alexander?—”

“She won’t.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? She is Alexander’s blood, after all.”

He leans forward and holds his hands out. “Listen, I know you and Anya are close. But all the same, if she were to vote for Alexander, the optics would be devastating. She votes for you, great, she wants continuity. But if she were to side with Alexander, Yang would be back on a plane to Shanghai before the second round of voting.”

He’s right, and I hate that.

“Find Anya and send her in.”

He stands and nods, then steps out. A minute later, Anya appears in the doorway. Her careful, neutral expression suggests she already knows what this is about.

“Close the door. Sit down.”

She does both without a word. She’s only twenty years old but manages to carry herself with a poise beyond her age.