Ilyasov barks out a harsh laugh. “There’s no joke here. Every single one of my men is busy putting out the fires you started. Tending to things to make sure the Albanians don’t come slaughtering every Russian man, woman, and child they can find. You think I’m going to divert them all to come fix your petty little problems? The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“This is your problem, too,” I snarl.
“You’re a Romanoff just like I am. We share a heritage, a name, the same blood in our veins. If I go down in New York, you don’t think they’ll come for you?”
“I’m safe. I’m protected. I take care of the snakes in my garden. You should’ve done the same.”
“This is f*****g bullshit, Ilya.”
“No, this is how the world works. It’s time you started to understand that. My answer is no. Not now.”
I
