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I tossed the folder onto the desk.

“Start with the pretty attorney,” I said. “I want to know everything. Where she lives. Where she came from. Who she’s working for. And whether she’s connected to Ciro Delgado or just unlucky enough to share his name.”

Nik flipped open the folder and quickly shuffled through the documents.

Then he pointed toward the black leather sofa along the side wall. “Sit. This may take a minute. You look one breath away from putting your fist through something expensive.”

“Then don’t own so much expensive shit.”

His mouth twitched, but his eyes focused on the first document.

I lowered myself onto the sofa and set my coffee on the table beside it. From here, I had a front-row seat to Nik’s entire command center. He took the chair behind his desk and tapped the keyboard in front of him.

Windows began opening across the monitors, and the printer along the wall clicked to life.

Nik read the first page and swore under his breath in Russian.

“What?” I asked.

His eyes moved down the letterhead. “Assistant Corporation Counsel Isabella Delgado, New York City Law Department, Administrative Law and Regulatory Litigation Division. Assigned to the Mayor’s Office of Special Enforcement.”

He looked up at me.

I stared back. “Say that again in English.”

“She’s not some private attorney trying to scare you with stationery. She’s a city lawyer.”

“City lawyer sounds better than whatever the fuck you said before.”

“The Law Department represents the City.” He flicked the page with one finger. “That gives her proper authority.”

“Authority enough to shut Xyst down?”

“Enough to make most men hesitate.”

“Good thing we aren’t the type to hesitate.”

“Yes,” he said, already scanning the next page. “She assumed we’d comply and let our attorneys battle it out with the city. That appears to be her first mistake.”

The screens shifted as he worked, scanning the documents and entering key pieces of information into his system. One screen displayed the documents; another filled with legal jargon and government-looking files, while a third moved too fast for me to make sense of, lines of text jumping as his fingers slid over the keyboard.

I leaned back, but every muscle in my body stayed tight with irritation.

Nik read in silence for a minute.

Finally, he said, “This isn’t just one case.”

“Didn’t look like a stack of good news.”

“It’s a coordinated hit.” He dragged three documents to the center screen. “City enforcement here. State Liquor Authority here. And this, this is a private civil suit.”

I stared at the pages on the screen. “Cut through the legal BS and tell me what it all means for the club.”

He pointed to the first document. “The City’s framing Xyst as a dangerous venue—a nightlife nuisance, a public-safety threat, and a business that can’t control what happens inside its own walls. If a judge buys it, they can bury us in inspections and restrictions or shut us down outright.”

“They should put that on a billboard. I bet it’d bring more of the filthy rich in.”

Nik moved to the next filing. “The liquor authority suspended us over the kid with a fake ID who assaulted a cop last April, and they claim we pose a threat to public safety. Xyst is now dry.”