Page 41 of Feral King

“And our father’s favorite.”

“That makes it even easier to remember.”

I regard the glass for a moment but don’t take a sip.

“You wanted to meet so we could talk—talk.”

Alexander sighs, sets down his drink, and folds his hands on the table. It’s a move I’ve seen before, a pose that suggests he’s being sincere. He’s been doing it since he was twelve, and though he’s gotten better at it, I can still see right through him.

“I’ve been thinking about the council,” he says, “about what happens if we go in divided.”

“Good. So have I.”

“Then you know it’s a problem. Dobrov’s already using it. I assume that’s why he was in your office today.”

I don’t bother to ask how he knew that. It’s irrelevant.

“I’m aware of what Dobrov said.”

“Then you’re also as aware as I am that if we show up fractured and fighting, Yang’s people will pull his support, the Filipinos soon after that. Neither of them is going to offer international agreements to an unstable house.”

“You’re saying this as if I haven’t been spending a great deal of my time preparing for the potential fallout of your behavior.”

He waves his hands, as if this dismissing this as minor stuff that we need to get past.

“So we’re both aware of what’s going on and what’s at stake.”

“Tell me what you’re proposing, Alexander. Get to the point.”

“What I’m proposing is unity, real, visible, undeniable unity. I stand beside you at the council, publicly endorse your leadership. I tell every family I've built a relationship with over the past three years that Julian Volkov has my full support, and the Volkov house is whole."

He pauses and sips his bourbon, letting his words hang in the air, giving me space to reflect. Then, he sets his drink down and goes on. "Dobrov loses his leverage overnight. Yang sees stability. You keep your seat, I keep my dignity, and the family survives."

NowIneed a sip of the scotch. I take the glass in my hand and sit back, turning Alexander’s words over in my mind.

It’s a good pitch—clean and logical—and delivered with just a touch of humility. This is Alexander at his best, not as some blustering narcissist, but as a man who knows whatpeople want and how to give it to them giftwrapped and tied with a ribbon.

But there’s one piece we haven’t gotten to yet, and I don’t want to waste any more time.

“What do you want in return?”

He meets my eyes and the mask drops. I see the cold ambition behind his altruism. His smile fades.

“Get rid of Lyra.”

The air changes instantly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Alexander leans forward. “Get rid of her.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she’s a liability, Julian. She’s my ex-fiancée, working at our family company, publicly attached to my brother. It reads to our enemies as a power play. It makes you look petty, and it makes me look weak. It also makes the family look like it’s being run by personal grudges, instead of business strategies.”

“That’s your take on the situation,” I say. “From my perspective, I’m retaining one of the most competent employees in the company after you tossed her aside. No one cares about our personal business, so long as we’re united where and when it counts.”

He narrows his eyes. “She’s a distraction, and you know it. I’m not asking you to hurt her. I’m asking you to let her go quietly. Give her a generous severance and a glowing reference. Whatever and however you want to do it. She’s adamn good employee, and that’s all the more reason not to worry about her. She’ll land on her feet just fine.”