“You know what? I really thought we’d gotten past this.” She crosses her arms, fixes me with a glare that could cut throughsteel. “You bossing people around, telling them when to speak, what to do.” Her face turns bitter. “Or where to live.”
Irritation flares through me. “Forgive me for trying to save your life.”
“See? That, right there.” She sticks her finger in my face. “You think you’re king of the world. That you know better thananyone, that only you get to make the decisions. News flash: that’s not how it works, Yulian!”
“I’m the pakhan,” I say. “That’s exactly how it works.”
“Maybe in your Bratva,” she says. “But not in real life. Not with family. And certainly not with me.”
I have no idea how this argument started. I’m supposed to be surveying my surroundi
