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"Do you realize the risk you put us in while you investigate The Thieves?" Filip glares at her. Until Larissa, this was his job, and he's not pleased she's one-upped him. Again.
She glares right back. "There is no risk," she says tightly. "I've used state-of-the-art encryption and hidden my tracks well. I'm hardly using my iPhone in a casual search at a fucking coffee shop."
Demyan's lips quirk up at the way she schools Filip, and he looks at Filip like a stern father might an errant son.
"Scolding Larissa is my job," he reminds him. "Not yours."
Filip just sits back and glares. The rest of us watch in silence.
Larissa straightens in her chair. "As I was saying," she continues. "There's a small tattoo no one knows about, that seems to identify every one of The Thieves." Zooming in, she pulls up a bare-chested picture of a prisoner doing pull-ups in a prison gym. A black, six-pointed star shows right under his arm, above his obliques, only visible when he lifts his arm above his head. "We have no facial footage of the man who killed Taya," she says. "He was masked, and it appeared random. Until recently, I didn't know we could even obtain security footage."
"How did you get it?" Filip snaps.
She waves her hand. "It involved overriding governmental protocol, but if you know anything at all about hacking, you'd know that, wouldn't you? This footage was archived prematurely which in and of itself is a concern."
Her voice drops while she pulls up another video clip and enlarges it, but before she pushes the button, she looks to me.
"I don't know if you want to see this, Maksym," she whispers, sympathy in her gaze. I look in surprise when her normally fiery eyes fill with tears. "It's actual footage of Taya's..." her voice trails off. She can't bring herself to say it.
"Show me," I order. I'm on my feet, my hands fisted by my side, and in an instant, Demyan's beside me, standing between me and Larissa.
"You don't have to see it," she continues.
"Fucking show me!" I scream.
Demyan's hands are on my shoulders and he's pushing me to sit. "Sit down, Maksym. I won't prevent you from seeing this, but she was right to check with you before she showed you." He leans in and plants his hands on either side of my chair, his mouth to my ear. "But if you yell at her again, I'll dismiss you for the night. I don't want to do that, brother. Don't make me."
I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth. I give him one quick nod and meet the eyes of Nicolai, who holds my gaze in solidarity. He lost his sister in a gang fight before he was inducted into our brotherhood. He knows the pain that burns in my chest like a torch, the way fire ignites my veins at the mere mention of her death. He gives me a nod. He knows what I feel, but we both know I have to calm myself or I'm useless.
"I'm sorry, Larissa," I say while Demyan sits beside me.
She waves her hand. "Eh, I'm used to you testosterone monsters," she says. "Now as I was saying, I found this footage. Your girl was a fighter, Maksym. She took this man down before he got her. And look..."
My body stills at the grainy shot of my Taya, still dressed in hospital scrubs. She's on the ground on her back and a man holds her down, but she's already ripped the t-shirt from his body. I'm on my feet again before I realize I'm standing, my vision blurring with rage. I will find this man. I will find him, and I will make every nerve in his body scream in pain while he begs for mercy I will not give. I will find him, and he will die a slow, torturous death.
Demyan watches me, but I get no closer to Larissa.
"Look," Larissa says softly, pointing to the screen. I step closer to her and Demyan's beside me, but I wave him off.
"I won't hurt her," I tell Demyan. "Please, Dem."
Demyan lets me get closer. It's blurry, but the mark is unmistakable: the six-pointed star beneath the man's armpit.
"It was a Thief," Larissa whispers.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
"How do you know he didn't go rogue?" Filip asks with a frown. "If we take on The Thieves, we go to war."
I could wring his scrawny neck for suggesting we don't kill the motherfuckers. Instead, I focus on Larissa.
"Do we know if this was sanctioned by Yuri?" I ask. My skin crawls at the mere mention of his name.
"This is also what I needed to show you."
At first, she doesn't respond, but pulls up footage of a car several yards behind the scene in front of us. A long, black car with a license plate I can barely read. But she zooms in.
