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That’s exactly why I’m sitting here tonight. The Irish have become a fucking irritation I can no longer tolerate.

Cillian O’Brien and his crew have been testing my boundaries for months, slowly creeping into my territory like cockroaches. A few days ago they had the balls to hit one of my warehouses.

Viktor finishes speaking and looks at me, waiting for the final word.

I lean forward, elbows on the table, my voice low and ice-cold as I address the men gathered around me.

“Take out everyone except the leader.” I let my gaze sweep across every face in the room. “Keep him breathing. I want to know exactly who these bastards are working for and how deep this goes with O’Brien.”

The men nod, their expressions grim and focused. I push my chair back and stand, buttoning my suit jacket.

As the men begin to file out, Viktor lingers behind.

“Boss,” he says quietly, “we know the Irish are behind this. Why not just go straight for O’Brien?”

I give him a flat look. “Because I don’t operate on assumptions, Viktor. You know that.”

He exhales sharply, frustration bleeding into his tone. “We’re not assuming. The Irish have been trying to encroach on our territory for months. It’s obviously them.”

I stop beside the lead SUV and give him a long, hard look, the kind that usually makes men rethink their next words.

Viktor raises both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re the boss. We do it your way.”

I slide into the passenger seat. Viktor gets behind the wheel and starts the engine. The rest of the convoy falls in line behind us as we pull out of the driveway, headlights cutting through the darkness.

I lean back against the leather seat, staring out at the passing city lights.

I control the majority of New York now. The ports, the warehouses, the clubs, the protection rackets, the underground gambling—nearly all of it belongs to the Bratva. The Italians and the Irish, along with a handful of smaller factions, are left fighting over whatever scraps remain.

Ten years ago, when the old Pakhan who ran New York died, the city was fractured. The Italians held the most power, the Irish were snapping at their heels, and the Bratva was just one of many players.

The former Pakhan had been weak. When he was killed during the brutal war with the Albanians, I flew in from Moscow, wiped the Albanians off the map, seized their territory, and carved out a new empire for the Bratva in New York. That war earned me the name “Bratva Devil.” People still whisper it with fear. Everyone learned their place quickly after that.

But lately the Irish have grown bold again. Cillian O’Brien has been testing my boundaries for months, slowly nibbling at the edges of my territory like a rat in the dark. A year ago he even had the audacity to sit across from me and propose an “alliance.”

I saw right through him. The man is neck-deep in flesh trade and organ harvesting, the kind of filth I won’t touch no matter how heartless people think I am. I sent him away with a clear warning.

Now he thinks the smartest move is to try and take me out so he can swallow my territory whole.

Viktor glances at me as we merge onto the highway. “You sure about keeping the leader alive? We could end this tonight.”

“I’m sure,” I reply, voice flat. “I want to know exactly how deep this goes. I want names. I want proof. Then we burn the rest of them.”

He nods and then asks, “So… how’s it going with your daughter?” he asks, glancing over from the driver’s seat as we speed down the highway.

A smirk tugs at my lips before I can stop it. Just the mention of Anya makes something warm and unfamiliar bloom in my chest. I suddenly want to turn the car around and go straight back home to her.

“It’s good,” I say quietly. “She calls me Dad now.”

Viktor lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “Andrei Popov… a dad. Never thought I’d see the day.” He pauses, then adds with a grin, “Same way I never thought I’d see you in love.”

I turn my head to look at him, brow raised. “In love?”

“Yeah,” he says, completely unbothered. “You spent four years searching for a woman you only spent one night with. You tore the city apart looking for her. That’s not just obsession, boss. That’s love.”

I lean back against the seat, staring out at the dark road ahead. “That doesn’t mean I’m in love,” I mutter.

Viktor glances at me with that shit-eating grin I’ve known since we were kids.