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The door to Vadem Tarasov's quarters bursts open under the force of my boot, splintering at the hinges. Time seems to slow as I take in the scene before me. A lone guard, startled by our sudden intrusion, scrambles for his weapon.
Instinct kicks in. I sidestep as the guard's gun barks out a desperate shot, the bullet whizzing past me. My own weapon is already in hand, a reflex honed by years in a world where hesitation can be fatal. I squeeze the trigger, my aim true. The bullet strikes the guard's hand, a precision shot meant to disarm, not kill. The gun clatters to the floor, the guard howling in pain and surprise.
Andrei and Roman pour into the room behind me, their movements swift and decisive. The guard is quickly subdued, Roman's strong hands pinning him to the ground while Andrei kicks the gun out of reach.
In the corner, Vadem Tarasov cowers, his bravado evaporating in the face of our unrelenting approach. His eyes dart around the room, seeking an escape route that doesn't exist. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, his face a mask of cowardice and fear.
"Don't shoot, please!" he begs, his voice quivering. "I'll tell you anything you want!"
Andrei steps forward, his presence dominating the room. "You're going to explain the bomb at the restaurant," he commands sternly. "Start talking, Vadem."
Vadem's eyes widen. A flicker of panic and perhaps the realization that he has nowhere to go passes across his face.
"I know nothing about any bomb," he stammers. "I swear it wasn't me!"
Roman's grip on the subdued guard tightens. "And why should we believe a word you say?" he asks, his voice icy.
Vadem swallows hard, his gaze darting between each of us. "Because if I were behind it, I wouldn't be here cowering in my own house!"
His words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his potential involvement still a tangible possibility. I feel a surge of disgust, both for the man before me and the situation we've been dragged into.
Vadem sits before us, a small, rat-like man whose presence is as unremarkable as it is insidious. He's the sort of man you'd pass on the street without a second glance, yet in this moment, he's the center of our attention, the key to a puzzle we're desperate to solve.
"Vadem," I begin, my voice steady and cold, "there's no point in playing dumb. We have footage of you meeting with Oskar and with the waiter at the restaurant. It's over."
The color drains from his already pallid face, his eyes flitting around the room. For a moment, he seems to collapse in on himself, the recognition of his precarious situation settling in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he stammers, his voice tinged with fear. "I won't say a word."
His attempt to stonewall us is almost laughable, but there's a desperate edge to it that suggests he's more involved than he's letting on. I lean in closer, my gaze unwavering.
"You're in deep, Vadem. We can make things very unpleasant for you," I warn, my tone implying threats I don't need to vocalize.
For a long moment, there's silence. Vadem shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flickering between each of us, measuring his chances. Then, almost imperceptibly, he mutters something under his breath.
"I was tying up loose ends," he says, the words barely audible.
"Tying up loose ends," I repeat, my voice hard. "What loose ends, Vadem? What have you gotten yourself into?"
He doesn't respond, but the slight quiver in his lip and the darting of his eyes speak volumes. Vadem Tarasov, once just a name in the vast web of our world, now stands as a key figure in a plot that threatens to unravel everything we've built.
Vadem shifts uncomfortably, the weight of his situation becoming increasingly evident. "I'm a politician," he begins, his voice lacking its earlier defiance and now edged with a mixture of desperation and self-justification. “You must understand that it was only a matter of time before my dealings with the Bratva were exposed. My entire career, my reputation, they would have been destroyed."
He pauses, swallowing hard as if the gravity of his own words is just dawning on him. "I needed a way out, a clean break. I thought if I could help take down the Bratva, I could save my own skin. I'd be seen as a hero." His voice is almost pleading as his eyes flicker to me, seeking some semblance of understanding, perhaps even sympathy. But all he finds is my growing anger and contempt.
"Working with that undercover cop seemed like the perfect solution," Vadem continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. “He was supposed to clean up everything, make it all go away."
“What undercover cop?” Andrei asks.
Vadem looks at me like I’m stupid. “Oskar. Your trusted bodyguard.”
The room falls silent, his words hanging like lead in the air. My mind races, each revelation hitting me like a physical blow. Oskar, a cop? The man I trusted implicitly was a mole within our ranks. Betrayal burns through my veins, hot and unforgiving.
"That son of a bitch," I mutter under my breath, my fists clenching involuntarily. The betrayal stings, a deep, personal outrage that clouds my thoughts.
I look at my brothers, the revelation seemingly hitting them just as hard. Their expressions are a mix of shock and anger. The treachery shakes the very foundation of our trust.
Vadem looks between us, his eyes wide with fear now as if realizing the full extent of what he's unleashed. But his fate is the least of my concerns.
