Kisa’s face flushed red, and she said, “Always, lyubov moya.”

I raced down the stairs and out into the cold night air. The driver held open the back door of the limo, and when I slipped in Zaal was already sitting opposite me, dressed in a monkey suit like me, his long hair tied back in a bun. The brother had been a nuclear bomb since we heard his sister had been taken.

As the car began to roll away, I asked, “You ready for this?”

Zaal exhaled and replied, “It is who I am. I am the Kostava Lideri. It is time my people had their dignity restored.”

The isolated warehouse at the Brooklyn docks was surrounded by our byki, hidden away in the shadows. Zaal and I got out of the car, Mikhail, my head byki, and Otto, Zaal’s, falling into step at our sides.

We approached the rear of the metal building; the area around us was derelict and run-down, a wasteland of dirt and filth.

As we reached the doors, a small man came running from the old wooden entrance. Avto. The old man scurried forward, holding his flat cap in his hands. Part of me wanted to allow Zaal to take the lead, but whether Zaal like it or not, he was part of the Bratva now. The people inside, and any man who followed Zaal’s leadership, had to know that the knyaz and Pakhan would be in every part of their lives.

“Avto,” I greeted. Avto’s eyes left Zaal and focused on me. “Knyaz,” he replied coldly, then focused back on Zaal.

“Lideri”—Avto swallowed, and shook his head—“I’m sorry, but as you stand here, you look just like your father.” Avto had spoken in Georgian.

Zaal tensed but then asked, “Are they all here?”

Avto nodded his head. “Yes, Lideri. Just under two hundred men.”

I nodded my head and said to Zaal, “That shows loyalty.” Avto swallowed when I too spoke in Georgian. I glared at the little man, and in that same Georgian I said, “Lead the way.”

Avto turned and hurried toward the entrance. As we walked through the doors and down a dusty hallway, I said, “Remember the housing offer. We will need your men close. It will give you time and a chance to see who is most loyal. Who to bring into your inner circle.”

Zaal nodded his head, then smirked my way. “You are sounding very much like Kirill, Luka. If I had closed my eyes, I think you could have fooled me into thinking he was beside me.”

I smiled and hit Zaal on the back. Holding out his hand, he stopped me and, only to me, said, “I was trained for the role, just as you were. I will never break my loyalty to the Bratva. I love my Talia too much to ever do that—”

“But?” I interrupted.

Zaal shook his head, smiling again. “But I am the Kostava Lideri. I will lead my people. Just as you will lead yours. And we make the decisions for our people together.”

Narrowing my eyes, I held out my hand. Zaal immediately shook it, and we commenced walking. We had only moved a few steps before I said, “You just sounded very much like Anri. If I had closed my eyes, you could’ve fooled me into thinking he was back beside me.”

Zaal sighed, but I saw the flash of pain in his eyes. “He was my brother. My twin. As much as I, he was meant for this moment.”

We walked together in silence. We stopped as Avto slipped through the archway into the main body of the warehouse. Zaal squared his shoulders, and with a firm nod to me and the byki he entered the warehouse.

I followed close behind Zaal. I watched with assessing eyes as his people came into view. Many older men stood in the abandoned space, but there were also a lot of younger men, young strong men who had been brought up well by their fathers. In seconds Zaal rounded the corner; their faces expressed their shock at seeing their Lideri. I stopped, Mikhail standing beside me, and let Zaal take the floor. He walked past his people, his huge frame towering above them.

My gaze wandered to Avto, who was standing back, watching Zaal take his place at the front of the crowd. Avto’s eyes were filled with tears, and even though he hated me, I felt sorry for the man. From what I could gather, Zoya, Zaal’s sister, was important to Avto. His entire life had been pledged to her protection.

A protection that had now failed.

The men all stared at Zaal. Many of the men bowing their heads in a show of respect. Zaal took a deep breath and, raising his head high, said, “Thank you for attending this meeting tonight.” He spoke in Georgian, and the people all began to smile. Finally, they knew their Lideri had returned.

Murmurs swept the group, many of the men expressing their happiness at him being alive.

Zaal held up his hand, and the men stopped talking. “As you can see, I, Zaal Kostava, of the Kostava Clan, am alive. Levan Jakhua took my twin brother and me captive years ago. I am sorry to say that Anri did not survive.” The men all bowed their heads in disappointment and respect for Anri’s memory.

“In fact,” Zaal continued, “up until this week I believed I was the only survivor of my family. I now know that is not true. My sister, Zoya, will be known to many of you. Many of you will have helped her escape with Avto as a child, and I know many of you have followed her to New York to continue her protection. For that you have my utmost gratitude.”

Zaal ran a hand down his face. “Many of you already know that Zoya has been taken, and as yet we have no leads as to who did this. We do, however, know there are Georgians in this city that shouldn’t be here. Right now, we suspect they have my sister, and we must get her back.”

The men began murmuring to one another, stirred by Zaal’s words. My brother glanced back at me, and I nodded my head. Mikhail talked into the communication device on his suit, preparing the byki to move in if anything went down.

“I am the Kostava Lideri. I intend to lead you once again. If you pledge your loyalty to me, there is housing waiting for you and jobs for you to take up immediately. You will no longer have to live in hiding. And you will all become rich men.”

Smiles broke out on the men’s faces, but Zaal held up his hand. “What many of you do not know, however, is that I am engaged to be married.” Zaal paused at mention of his engagement. I watched Avto, who was fiddling with this caps. I straightened, pushing my hands into my pockets, slipping the cold steel of my knuckle-dusters over my fingers. I braced, ready for trouble, should trouble arise.

“I am engaged to a female called Talia Tolstaia.” Zaal spoke my sister’s name proudly. I smiled, knowing that the brother would put her before anyone else. This time, no smiles greeted his words. Instead the men began to look at one another, many showing anger on their faces.