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"This is Yuri's car," she says.
Demyan curses.
"Tell me everything you know about Yuri," I tell her. I can hardly hear my own voice with the blood pounding in my ears. I'm almost lightheaded with fury, so consumed with hot, molten rage, I can barely think straight. "Does he have a wife? A daughter?"
Larissa's hands tremble on her laptop. "Maksym," she whispers. Larissa was originally kidnapped by our men for the crimes we thought she committed. She has become one of us, and loves Demyan, her husband. But she hasn't forgotten the fear of being held captive. She knows what we're capable of.
"Maksym," Demyan warns.
I round on him. "Don't you fucking warn me," I tell him, knowing I'm crossing a line. Demyan is my brother, but he's the pakhan, and he tolerates no disrespect from anyone.
"How would you feel if that was Larissa?" I ask, gesturing to the screen. "If you just watched a man hold her down before he slit her throat?"
Demyan's jaw clenches but he doesn't speak. "You weren't there," I tell him. "You weren't strapped to the floor and beaten, held prisoner by a gang of ruthless criminals who promised to find whoever you loved and rape them raw unless you caved. It wasn't you. You don't fucking know what that was like."
Demyan puts his hand on my shoulder. "I wasn't, brother."
"I loved her, Demyan." It's all I need to say, and I can't speak anymore anyway, because my throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. I will not shed a tear in front of my brothers. I will not show my weakness.
Demyan squeezes my shoulder and turns to Larissa. He holds her gaze, and his voice goes hard when he orders her. "Tell him."
"I—oh, God," she whispers, her voice tremulous. "Demyan," she pleads.
"Tell him."
"He has no wife," she says in a whisper. "She died years ago. But he has a daughter."
"Her name," I manage to rasp out.
"Olena," she says. "She's a college student and has only been in this country the past five years. She lived in America with his wife until she died, and then came to live with her father after her mother's death."
"Go on."
"She lives near campus," she continues. "Works at the cafe. That's all I know." She closes her eyes. "It's all I want to know."
But she suspected I would want this from her, so she was prepared to answer my questions. She's already figured out my plan.
"Which college?"
"Moscow University," she whispers.
"What are you going to do, brother?" Demyan asks.
I turn to face him. "I will find the man who killed my Taya. I will find him through Yuri. And I now have a way to find Yuri."
Demyan holds my gaze for a moment before he nods. If he agrees to this, he agrees to go to war with The Thieves. I will not have my revenge without bloodshed.
Turning to Larissa, he nods. "Tell him everything he needs to know."Chapter 2Olena
"Hey there, Olena," Maiya says cheerfully. The perky blonde smiles huge at me, and I smirk at her cute attempt to sound like an American. She knows though I was born in Russia, the majority of my school days were in America, and she speaks English to me more than Russian. Well she tries to anyway.
"Zdravstvuy," I respond, giving her a teasing look. I may not speak Russian as well as my classmates, but I can hold my own.
"Are you coming to the party tonight?" she asks.
Ha. As if I could ever do such a thing. My bodyguard sits at a table, pretending to casually read a paper while he sips his coffee. His brows raise to me, and he gives me a silent head shake.
No.
I frown but don't answer her right away. I suppose being the daughter of Yuri Baranov has its benefits—no asshole ever tries to flirt with me on campus, and no one will take advantage of me—but the ability to socialize is not one of them. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "I have so much homework. But maybe next time?" I try to stay cheerful even while I know there will be no next time.
I honestly know few details about what my father does, and in the past year I've witnessed things I never wished to. Not with his knowledge, of course. It took some serious snooping on my part. And recently, I've even thought it was time for me to make my getaway. But how could I escape a man so powerful?
"Ah, that's too bad," she pouts, sticking out her lower lip. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes. College students my age feel so much younger to me than I am, and occasionally their immaturity bothers me. She's worrying about her boyfriend's condom breaking, and I'm trying to figure out how to get out from under the thumb of one of Russia's most wanted criminals.
