Exactly as Nikolai had been pushing for far too long.
“Before this begins,” Prendel paused, “and to ensure that both parties come to the trial on equal footing, Olan Lundin’s outstanding debts to Nikolai Skolov must be paid.”
Nikolai didn’t hold back his smile this time. He wished his brothers Maxheim, Alexi, and Damien could have been here for this moment, but only heads of families and property were allowed in the inner sanctum.
Still, Olan’s flash of rage was as satisfying as it got. It had to be humiliating to have it revealed that the debts he’d been racking up through bad investments and gambling losses—all orchestrated by Nikolai—were held by the one person he wanted least to owe anything at all.
It had to hurt, too, that as a result of those outstanding charges, Olan had to back out of the official bridal contract he’d forged with the Verish family and use as debt reparation the one piece of valuable property he had that was not already leveraged to the gills: his first daughter omega.
But that’s what the bastard got for trying to give what was Nikolai’s to some other male.
Nikolai suspected most of the Brotherhood thought he was crazy to take the omega as remuneration for the massive tab Olan owed him.
But revenge was priceless—and Lundin’s first daughter omega was the key.
“Do you accept the ownership rights of Olan Lundin’s first daughter, a pure, gifted omega, as a fair and equitable exchange for the financial debt you are owed?” Prendel’s eight eyes blinked as one.
“I do.”
“Excellent. The first piece of business between the Skolovs and Lundins is resolved.” Prendel’s body formed an arm-like mass and pressed a panel on the glass in front of him. Streams of data—the official contract—rushed past. “Sign and you may take possession of your new property and all financial debts between the two parties will be considered erased.”
Nikolai slammed his hand to the glass, relishing the prick as his blood oath was absorbed into the barrier and added to the contract. She was his.
Prendel nodded. “We move now to the second piece of business, again related to the Skolov-Lundin feud.”
The other warlords sat straighter on their thrones. The Brotherhood was rife with disputes and double-crosses, but at the moment, none were more interesting than this one.
“The Skolov family,” continued Prendel, “has long contended that Olan Lundin is guilty of the most heinous of Brotherhood crimes: the deliberate killing and cover-up of one of our own.”
Low growls sounded from the other Alphas, their predatory instincts rousing.
There was no more grave offense in the Brotherhood. When associates and soldiers, as well as omegas, were killed in territorial disputes, it was dismissed as collateral damage, but to take down another crime boss was to break the blood oath made when they joined the Brotherhood.
The gravity of the accusation, and the outcome of the verdict—total annihilation of the bloodline of either the accused or the accuser—was why Nikolai suspected the Brotherhood had waited so long to address his complaint. No one liked the idea of upheaval in the current power balance.
But he’d made damn sure they had no choice.
“Nikolai Skolov has accused Olan Lundin of shooting the previous Kuril head of the family and setting him, and the murder site, on fire to cover up the crime.”
Olan had killed people far more significant than the Kuril crime boss in that fire, but the Brotherhood didn’t give a shit about them.
But Nikolai did, and he intended Olan to pay for all his crimes.
He looked across the way at the current head of the Kuril family.
Ever so subtly, the male nodded.
It was his predecessor who’d been killed in the fire, along with Nikolai’s own flesh and blood, and after finally hearing the Skolov side of the story, the Kuril family wanted the truth to come out almost as badly as Nikolai did.
“The Skolov accusation against Olan Lundin will now be considered. Along with Olan Lundin’s claim of innocence and counterclaim of slander.” Prendel wrapped a glob-like arm around his gavel and slammed it against the glass. “Punishment for the party found guilty will be swift and merciless, the specific means determined by the innocent party. Do you accept these terms?”
“I do.” Nikolai’s voice held no hesitation.
“I do, too.” Olan’s declaration was equally as clear. Whatever his faults, and there were plenty, the bastard was as bold and brash as ever, despite his advancing years and the stink of guilt that clung to him even now.
Prendel nodded. “The Brotherhood has your witnesses. Interrogation will begin immediately.”
“Good.” The sooner the better. Tracking down the few living beta servants who’d been working in the compound the rotation of the fire had been a challenge. Olan Lundin had killed most of them already, along with any Lundin soldiers who’d showed an interest in turning against their own. They’d ended up with their throats slit and their tongues cut out before Nikolai could get them to testify.
But thanks to his brothers’ tracking and computer skills, he’d managed to unearth a few beta servants who’d been working the rotation of the fire—and persuade them that, despite their terror, it was to their benefit to testify. Because however scared they were of Olan Lundin, they needed to be twice as scared of Nikolai Skolov.
The witnesses’ recorded testimonies recalled the same details: Olan’s fury, his threats against the Kuril head, the raised voices in the family’s private quarters, the panic of the fire, the stampede and thick smoke, and the fact that the Kuril crime boss and several members of the Skolov family never made it out alive. The witnesses also mentioned the scent of Kuril blood and the burning odor of laser shots on Olan’s skin and clothes.
One witness remembered more. Right before his mad dash out of the flames, he’d seen the Kuril crime boss and Nikolai’s mother shot and sprawled on the floor of the omega’s private quarters, already dead.
His testimony proved it wasn’t the fire that killed the previous Kuril head, but a laser attack.
But to avoid accusations of tampering or undue influence, the Brotherhood insisted on interrogating all witnesses in person. They’d assured Nikolai security would be tight.
He disliked relinquishing his most persuasive evidence to someone else’s control, but it could not be helped. Certain protocols had to be met. For an organization predicated on lawlessness, the Brotherhood was a stickler for established traditions.
“Both parties will return to their planets and cease all further retaliation strikes.” Prendel’s emotionless voice, ever intent on keeping the proceedings moving, cut through Nikolai’s thoughts. “There will also be no attempt to influence the trial or the Brotherhood through outside means.” He leveled first Nikolai and then Olan with a warning glare from eight narrowed eyes. “You will talk to no one reviewing evidence. You will undertake no personal retribution. Any attempt to do so will be dealt with swiftly and harshly.”
Nikolai hated being sidelined, but he’d expected no less.
“You will have until the end of the interrogation and trial to present additional evidence,” continued Prendel. “After that, we will make our decision and the case will be closed.”