experienced shaped his view. His opinions often challenged the opinions of my younger men, his old age wisdom allowing for more clarity in situations.
Artyom might dislike him, but Feodor was imperative to making sure we didn’t fall victim to our idealistic youth.
When I had killed my father at fifteen, it had been Feodor who had reasoned with me and brought me back down to Earth. I had felt invincible, ready to kill my brothers and take the crown. But Feodor had advised against it.
Wait, he had said, be patient and plan.
I had.
Feodor spoke up after a few seconds, breaking up my reverie. “The idea of some lunatic going around and targeting these women is insane…it is more likely these are domestic disputes.”
“If not?”
He sighed. “Then we have a very real problem on our hands.”
We said our goodbyes and I turned back to Roman. My bodyguard watched our surroundings carefully, his eyes scraping over the woods like he could see the dogs stalking in the shadows.
“You sending Dani to check on Rifat?” he asked casually.
I decided to humor myself. “I’ll send Dmitri with her tomorrow.”
Predictably, Roman’s eyes hardened. “Dmitri? Really? Isn’t he a walking corpse at the moment?”
“I’m hoping Danika will be able to convince him to sleep. You know how persuasive she can be.”
Roman grunted. “I’ll take her. Poor bastard is going through enough. The last thing he needs is to listen to Dani’s chatter.”
“If you insist,” I relented, trying not to laugh.
Odessa swung her head over the fence, trying to gain my attention. I brushed down her mane with my fingers.
“Do you think he was telling the truth about the key?” Roman asked.
“I believe he thinks he is telling the truth,” I noted. “We won’t know for sure until we’ve searched Thaddeo’s property.”
Roman regarded me, picking up something in my tone. “Do you think his widow knows where it is?”
“Not consciously.”
“Fuck, Kon!” He rubbed his face. “Is that why you agreed to her curing Tatiana? You’re trying to find out what she knows?”
“Everything I do usually has one or more agenda, Roman.” I stepped back from Odessa and waved the stable hand over. “Finding that key is imperative to establishing ourselves on Staten Island. And if someone else finds it before us…”
Roman grimaced. “We may as well kiss all your hard work goodbye.”
“Exactly.” I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Day one has been successful, but we must plan for the upcoming days.”
“Especially for Tatiana and Dmitri.”
I closed my eyes briefly at the mention of our sickening family member. “Especially for them.”
Roman didn’t like to linger on dark topics, particularly ones concerning his family. For all his anger and nasty retorts, Roman did care for Dmitri and Tatiana and was handling Tatiana’s sickness as well as he could. So, I wasn’t surprised when Roman brought up the topic of the next horse race.
“Artyom mentioned you’re considering inviting Ishida to the race?”
I smiled slightly at Roman, “You and Artyom are no better than two old ladies.” At his scowl, I laughed and said, “It will be a good chance for Ishida and me to talk. Rumor has it he was never a fan of the Falcones.”
“Was anyone?”
“Vitale Lombardi.”
“Has he still not congratulated you?” Roman demanded.
I turned away from Odessa as the stable hand led her to her pen, cajoling her with treats and pats. As she left, Hilarion started towards us, anger in his eyes. Before he collided into the fence between their paddocks, he dug his hooves into the grass and came to a sudden stop, breathing hard. He got the reaction he wanted; the stable hand startled and dropped a carrot in shock.
Before Odessa could swipe it, Hilarion stuck his head through the fence and grabbed it. He pulled up, looking awfully pleased with himself.
“Hilarion,” I commanded quietly.
He paused at the sound of my voice.
The stable hand muttered something under his breath about how the stallion should be put down but fell quiet as he noticed me listening. His cheeks went red as he realized he had just insulted my champion in front of me.
I assessed Hilarion. Even in his youth, he had been the most rambunctious colt in the paddock. His owner had been so sick of him that he had gladly sold him to me, warning me to double the strength of my fences and watch him with the other horses.
Half-demon, his owner had told me the day I’d showed interest in the chestnut foal. That horse is half-fucking-demon.