Page 180 of Dark King Daddy

“You know what I want. I told you at the Meridian. You’ve had nearly forty-eight hours to think about it.”

“State your terms.”

“A recorded resignation. Video. You state clearly that you are stepping down as Pakhan of the Sokolov organization, effective immediately. You state clearly that you are transferring administration of the Sokolov freight operation—the yards, the routes, the dispatch system, the labor contracts—to Viktor Voronin. You sign written orders to that effect. I will provide the language.”

“And then.”

“You bring the written orders to me in person. A truck-repair garage in Hackensack. I will send the address when I receive the recording. Your new deadline is five o’clock. You arrive alone. In return, your wife leaves the garage alive and unhurt.”

“I’ll do it.”

Arkady’s head turned. I felt it—the sharp movement in my peripheral vision, my brother’s face turning toward me. He believed I was making a mistake—it was obvious. I did not look at him.

“I’ll do it,” I repeated. “The recording. The orders. I’ll be at the garage before five. Alone. One condition.”

Oleg was quiet. The quiet of a man who had expected negotiation and was willing to hear the opening bid.

“Someone I trust receives her,” I said. “When I arrive. Before I enter. She walks out of that garage and gets into a car with someone I trust. Then I come in.”

“You don’t set conditions, Daniil.”

“I’m setting one. You get everything you asked for. The resignation. The freight operation. Me, alone, at the garage. You get all of it. In exchange, my wife walks out before I walk in. One car. One person I trust. She gets in the car and she leaves.”

Silence. Five seconds. Six. I heard nothing through the phone — no movement, no background noise, no indication of where Ksenia was or what was happening in the room.

“One car,” Oleg said. “Outside the garage. Your man stays in the car. Your wife walks to the car. You enter the garage alone. If I see anyone else—if I see a second vehicle, if I see a weapon, if I see anything that suggests you’ve brought an army—the deal is void and your wife stays where she is.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll send the address when I receive the recording.”

“You’ll have it. Don’t touch her.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone.

Arkady spoke first.

“You can’t trust that.”

“I know.”

“He’ll take the resignation, take the freight operation, and keep her. Or he’ll take you both. You know that.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing?”

I looked at my brother. His hands on the wheel. The scar on his forearm. The jaw set like concrete. Arkady, who had spent his entire life being the violent solution, the weapon, the man who broke things when they needed breaking. He was looking at me with something I rarely saw on his face — not anger, not calculation, but fear. The particular fear of a man watching his brother walk toward something he could not protect him from.

“Just help me make sure she gets out, Arkady,” I said.

My brother looked at the road. His jaw worked. His hands tightened on the wheel.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“I need Nikita outside that garage. I need him in the car. I need him to be the one who takes her when she walks out. I need you close enough to get her clear if something goes wrong. And I need you to promise me something.”