As soon as Anton returned home, he retreated to his office with his guard, Tim "Tiny" Vance, by his side. For several minutes, Anton stared at Natasha’s picture on his wall. The stillness of the room served as a poignant reminder of his solitude, a stark contrast to the warmth and vitality that Natasha embodied. He missed her already. Her scent. Her laughter. Even her smartass mouth.

As he thought about Natasha going home to Greg and their kids, he started to get angry. Natasha had six living children, fathered by four different men - one of the men being Anton’s own twin brother, Anthony and another by Anton’s right-hand man, Mickey. It helped to know that Natasha wasn’t in love with either of them, but it was different with Greg; Anton hated Greg even more for that reason. He wanted to own Natasha completely, including her heart. "I want him dead," Anton said, his voice low and serious.

Tiny, who was angling to replace Mickey as Anton's top lieutenant, kept quiet. Anton couldn't help but think that if Mickey were in Tiny's shoes, he'd have some witty remark or clever insight. The silence only underscored the looming reality: Mickey's retirement was drawing near, and Anton would soon have to adjust to a new dynamic.

Anton glanced over his shoulder, his expression growing impatient. “Well?” he prompted, his tone urging Tiny to respond quickly. "Uh, Boss, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Tiny said, his voice laced with nervousness. "Mickey already told me to hold off on anything regarding Greg Garrett.” "Who's in charge here, him or me?" Anton bellowed, his anger erupting as he snatched up a book and flung it at Tiny. “Where the fuck is Mickey?”

“It's exports today,” Tiny stuttered, “He’s down at the warehouses.”

Anton took a breath to compose himself. “Well, get down there and help!”

“Yes, Boss.”