They know he died.
They know he was punished.
They know I was there.
They don’t know why I was the one who pulled the trigger.
"My brother betrayed the Bratva." My voice is steady, cold. Detached. "We have a code. A sacred code. He broke it. And because of that, he faced the ultimate consequence.Vorovskoy Mir, the Thieves’ Code.”
The Bratva comes before all else.
Never cooperate with the authorities.
Never, ever betray your brothers.
She exhales softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Et tu, Brute?"
I swallow.
"He was my little brother," I say, my chest tightening. "I protected him. I loved him. When we were younger, I held him accountable for things, but I never imagined I’d have to hold him accountable for this."
She doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t recoil.
She just absorbs it.
And the pain in my chest loosens just a little.
"I can see that," she murmurs. "What happens when someone betrays the Bratva?" she asks. "I know what the Irish do—something tells me the Bratva is even worse."
I let out a humorless laugh.
"I don’t know," I admit. "The Irish are pretty fucking brutal. We lose the privilege of our tattoos."
She cringes.
Her eyes widen. "Oh my god. So you… youremovethem? I’m guessing that doesn’t involve a laser.”
"Yeah."
I don’t tell her how.
I don’t tell her that, in my brother’s case, it involved a blowtorch.
The smell of burnt flesh still makes me retch if I think about it too long. I can’t even grill anymore.
I force a smile. She looks at me like she understands exactly what I mean.
"Oh, Jesus, Matvei."
"Yeah." My throat tightens. "That was just the beginning."
I drag a hand through my hair. "I made him state the code while he was dying. Semyon had already beaten the shit out of him. He was conscious when I finally got to him." I swallow. "I told him I loved him. But I was loyal to the process. And I was the one who pulled the trigger."
She doesn’t speak for a long moment.
