Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
The question caught me off guard.
I'd expected demands.
Threats.
Some declaration of intent that would tell me why the leader of the Russian Bratva had landed a helicopter on my island without my permission.
Instead, he was asking me about history.
Here we go.
The wind shifted, carrying a fresh wave of smoke across the compound. I breathed through my mouth and tasted ash on my tongue. "No, Kazimir. I don’t know who was the first to start burning men."
Kazimir nodded slowly, still watching the flames. His dark hair stirred in the breeze—three, maybe four inches long—lifting and falling like something alive. The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face. "I believe it was the Greeks."
I frowned.
"But it wasn't for punishment. It was for honor. They believed fire released the soul. Freed it." The Lion lifted his cigar, and ash fell from the tip. "The Greeks burned their heroes on great pyres so their spirits could rise with the smoke and join the gods."
He's not here to teach me history. He's building toward something. The question is what.
The flames roared, hungry and vicious.
I turned my attention back to the pyre and spotted a body shifting deep within it. The corpse's ribcage collapsed next with a sickening crack that shot a violent storm of sparks skyward.
"The Vikings," Kazimir continued, "burned their dead on ships. Great wooden vessels pushed out to sea, set ablaze so the souls of warriors could sail to Valhalla."
He took another pull of his cigar. "Can you imagine? Watching the ship drift into the darkness, flames climbing the mast, knowing your father or your brother or even your king was inside. Knowing the fire was carrying them somewhere you couldn't follow."
I said nothing.
Just listened.
Watched.
Counted his men in my peripheral vision.
Noted how Reo had shifted two steps closer.
Calculated how fast I could get a blade into the Lion's throat if this shifted to violence.
"The Romans burned their emperors." He turned his head slightly, glancing at me. "Pyres so tall they could be seen from every corner of the city. They believed the fire transformed them. That when the flames finally died, the man who had ruled them was no longer mortal."
His smile sharpened. "He had become a god."
Interesting.
Kazimir wanted me impressed. Wanted me to see him as an equal—a fellow scholar of death. That need told me more than his entire historical speech.
Okay. You’re smart. We knew that. One can’t grab the Bratva’s throne with just muscle alone. But what could you want from me, while I’m at war?
The Lion didn't need allies. He had the entire Russian Bratva at his command. Thousands upon thousands of men. Billions in resources. Influence that stretched across continents. And he damn sure had control of all those Russian nukes.
So why was he here?
Why land on my island uninvited during a war that had nothing to do with him?
Why stand beside my pyre and recite history like a professor seeking approval from a student?
Within me, the dragon stirred again, and then suddenly. . .understanding began to crystallize.
Hold on. Perhaps. . .he wants something he can't take by force. Something only I can give him.
That realization shifted everything.
My pulse hummed.
What do you need, Lion, that only I can give?
I kept my face neutral.
Kept watching.
And waited for him to finally show his hand.
The smoke thickened in front of us, caught by another shift in the wind, and I had to turn my face away to breathe.
When I looked back, Kazimir had turned fully toward me, those deadly eyes studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "Every civilization. Every empire. Every corner of the world, from the beginning of time until now."
Civilization? Empires? Hmmm.
He spread his arms, cigar in one hand, the pyre blazing behind him like a throne of fire. "Men have always burned men."
He let those words hang in the air between us.
The flames crackled.
The ash fell.
And I understood, suddenly, what he was doing.
He was testing me.
Watching to see how I reacted.
Whether I flinched.
Whether I looked away.
Whether the Dragon who had ordered the pyre could stand in its heat and meet the Lion's eyes without shame, fear, or disgust.
Bored with his posturing, I stared at him. “You said we had much to discuss. What is it?”
The line in his jaw twitched, showing me his displeasure. "Why did you decide to burn these traitors?"
The question landed hard.
No one said these were traitors, and I knew Kazimir had not made an educated guess. Misha had clearly discovered it all and told him everything, but did Misha know about my Tiger.
Now I get why they call Misha, the Mosquito behind his back. He is absolutely annoying. Fucking buzzing little blood-sucking insect.
If I ever had an opportunity to get rid of the goddamn Mosquito I would seize it fast.
But more important. . .what else does Kazimir know?
I buried the unease beneath the mask I'd worn my entire life. “I burned them because fire is honest.”