YURI STOOD AT THE WINDOW of his study, looking out across the Kovalenko estate. The early morning light illuminated the silvery leaves on the trees dotting the rolling lawns that stretched downhill to the shores of Lake Nero. Mists lingered on the water’s surface, the sun’s heat not yet sufficient to dissolve them away.
He’d had a shitty night, and this morning was no better. A simple mission f****d up by incompetent Boyeviks, an ailing dictator-father, and one prisoner of mistaken identity pretty much summed up his lot. He’d just as soon get on his Harley and ride away from all of it, but the thought of his smug-faced brother inheriting the Kovalenko Bratva’s entire operation if he did, made his stomach turn.
He was no desk man, and he’d never slept well at Goragavan, the Kovalenko man
