He waited.
And waited.
For a long moment, there was nothing. Ivan tapped his finger on the desk. Had he failed in his task? A new pressure built in his chest at the thought. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not here, not now.
But gradually, so low he thought at first he was imagining it, a hissing filled the air. It grew steadily in volume until it was all Ivan could hear.
And then red smoke was billowing into the room, collecting into a column three feet around and nearly ten feet tall.
Massive. Just as Ivan had thought.
A deep, raspy voice rang out. “You called for me, human?”
For the first time in he didn’t know how long, Ivan smiled.
Despite all his earlier hurry,Ivan hesitated, taking a moment to appreciate the size of the smoke column, the deep sound of that voice. He’d been right to choose the red symbol—this demon was going to be huge. A goddamn monster. It was going to put Sascha’s warrior demon to shame.
As it should.
Ivanshouldhave the most powerful weapon available, not his brothers. They didn’t know the cost of the family business, the dangers that lurked at every corner. But Ivan knew. It was what he’d been raised for.
The only thing.
Their father had come to this country a minor player in the Russian Mafia, barely making enough to keep his family above water. He’d carved his place into the American branch by taking the dirtiest jobs offered, stabbing as many backs as he could along the way.
He’d taken his power by way of blood, until his name was as feared and respected as any other in the area.
And then he’d died suddenly, of a fucking aneurysm of all things, leaving Ivan in charge decades sooner than they’d expected. Which would have been fine, maybe. Alexei had been there as his enforcer, Sergei at his side to help smooth over the transitions, Sascha safely tucked away on the sidelines.
And then Alexei had fucked Ivan over, and all Ivan’s grief and rage and pent-up aggression had led to a few…poor decisions. Enemies made where he couldn’t afford them, the Carusos chief among them. If he didn’t handle it correctly, he’d have a mob war on his hands. And the odds of himself and both brothers making it out alive?
Slim to none.
A rumbling from the smoke column reminded Ivan he’d yet to reply. “I wish to summon a demon,” he said.
“And here I am. Fully summoned.” There was a subtle hint ofamusement in the demon’s voice. Was itlaughingat Ivan? Unacceptable.
Ivan rose from his seat, straightening his spine. There was no time for awe. No time for hesitancy. No time for reflections on his past.
They needed to start things on the right foot. This demon was to be at his beck and call. To serve him and him alone.
“I wish to form a contract,” he said firmly. “I need a weapon at my disposal.”
There was a long pause. Ivan barely dared to breathe. Would the demon refuse?
But the demon spoke again, and relief flooded through him. “And your terms, human?”
This part Ivan had thought through on the drive from his brother’s hideout in Maine back to his own office in the city. Ivan’s problems right now were threefold.
One: A rival family from the Italians, the Carusos, were making trouble.
Two: There was a mole in Ivan’s organization, leaking information to them.
And three: Ivan’s control over his empire was becoming…slippery, as evidenced by the prior two issues and the actions of his wayward brethren.
The Carusos Ivan had given to Sascha and his demon to deal with, assuming they took the bait he’d so generously laid out. Which left him with his mole and the bigger problem of the state of his business.
So his terms…
