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The fire goes out of Aleks eyes. His shoulders sink and he nods. “I get it. Message received. You don’t need anything from me where the Bratva is concerned. But are you at least willing to take advice from your brother about a personal matter?”
I frown. I’m already wary. “Depends on what it is.”
“When are you going to tell her everything?”
“‘Everything’?” I almost want to laugh in his face. “Why the fuck does she even need to know everything. She’s involved in none of it.”
“Except that she was kidnapped by one of your mortal enemies and it’s guaran-fucking-teed that they still have their sights set on her.”
“They’re not getting anywhere near her.”
“That’s what you said before. And then…”
He doesn’t dare to finish that sentence, but he doesn’t need to. Anger flickers in my gut like lit coals. “She’s nine months pregnant, brother,” I snap. “She doesn’t need the stress.”
“You really think learning the truth would stress her out?” he asks evenly. “In my opinion, I think it would go a long way in helping?—”
“I’m playing the long game here. The fewer people who know the truth, the better. I don’t want Wren compromised with information she’s not capable of handling.”
That, to my surprise, draws a laugh out of him. “That woman is capable of handling a fuck ton more than you give her credit for.”
He’s not wrong. But the idea of sharing my plans with her… my secrets… makes me shiver with discomfort. “I’m not in the habit of sharing sensitive Bratva information with outsiders. My own vors don’t know the truth. You really think I should tell Wren?”
“Yes, and you know exactly why.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Bee would want her to know. If she were here right now?—”
“Except she’s not, is she?” I snarl. “And even if she was, it wouldn’t change a fucking thing. I make the rules, brother. I decide who knows what and when. Right now, Wren needs to focus on delivering that baby and nothing else. Is that understood?”
The vein in Aleks’s forehead throbs. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man. Go tie up Gennady’s loose ends. I want everything clean before we hit the Irish.”
I turn my back on him and stride back out into the shadows of the building’s underbelly. I’m walking out into the sunlight again when my phone registers an incoming notification.
WREN: *Image*
I open it to find a picture of Wren’s naked belly. “Blyat’,” I mutter, coming to a stop when I realize why she sent it. If I zoom in, I can almost see the indent of a tiny little foot. It’s fucking amazing.
Another message comes in while I’m still staring at the picture.
WREN: he’s been kicking all day and im exhausted. *crying-laughing emoji*
WREN: And hungry.
Without thinking twice about it, I return her text.
DMITRI: Dinner it is. La Luna in thirty minutes. I’ll have Pavel pick you up.
WREN: Can’t say no to that :)
I’m getting in my car when my phone pings again. I’m expecting another text from Wren, but it’s Locksmith instead.
LOCKSMITH: the Black Serpent. u r welcome. coordinates incoming.
Grinding my teeth with satisfaction, I pull out my phone and text two of my most trusted vors with the information. I drive fast so that I can take care of this before I need to leave for La Luna.
When I pull up on the street next to The Black Serpent, a dingy bar near Wrigleyville, Pasha and Delph are already waiting out front.
Both approach my window. “How do you want it done?” Delph asks.
