Page 53 of Bratva Baby

“He’s pulling certain men closer,” she goes on, “and he’s pushing others far enough out that they can’t see the books anymore. Family subsidiaries are getting squeezed quietly. Nobody wants to call it a purge yet, but they’re already choosing sides.”

“And me?”

Now her voice flattens. “He’s speaking ahead of the problem.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

There’s a sigh before she speaks again. “It means he’s telling people you’re unstable, compromised, and being worked on by outside interests. If anything comes out in your name later, he wants to be prepared before it lands.”

The way her voice drops to a whisper makes me shiver. “So he’s not only searching.”

“No,” Zhenya says. “Now he’s building the story in case he doesn’t get you back first.”

I lean back in the chair and stare at the dark window. “Thank you.”

When the call ends, I set the phone down and keep looking at the window for a moment. Anton quirks his head at me. “Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head at first, then think the better of it and give him what I just heard in bits and pieces. He listens carefully, then folds his hands in front of his chest. “He’s scared.”

Maybe, but I’m still worried. “He’s getting the narrative in place before the facts arrive.”

“And that means what you found matters more than he wants anyone to know.”

“Yes.”

He pushes off the shelf and comes around the desk, close enough now that I can smell soap, tobacco, and the trace of whatever he was drinking earlier. “What else?”

I hesitate before saying, “There’s someone I need to find.”

His face changes slightly. “Who?”

“A retired bookkeeper. László Varga. My father trusted him with old reconciliations, the kind men forget about until those reconciliations can ruin them. If he still has records, he might be able to connect the corridor, the money, and the old killing in one place.”

Anton watches me with that stillness that means he’s taking it in.

“I tried to reach him before Budapest got burned,” I say. “Twice I got close through old names and side questions. If I can find him before Maks does, I might be able to do more than survive this.”

Anton nods once. “I’ll find out who he still answers to, where he is, and what’s left of his records.”

I blink. “That quickly?”

“Yes.”

“You’d help me with that?”

He holds my gaze. “If he gives you what you need to ruin Maks properly, then he helps me too.”

That steadies something in me that’s been restless for days, and I’m surprised by how reassured I feel. “Thank you,” I say before I can reconsider the words.

He looks at me like he didn’t expect that and enjoys it when it comes anyway. A moment, and the surprise that’s mirrored in his eyes cools again. “Don’t make a habit of gratitude. It’ll damage your reputation.”

We stand for a bit, and then thankfully, the house kitchen sends up another careful dinner, and I look at the tray, then at him, and decide I’m done being managed for the day. “I want pizza,” I say.

His brows knit together immediately. “The kitchen can⁠—”

“Fuck your kitchen,” I reply. “I want delivery. Greasy, with extra cheese and sauce.”

His eyes narrow a little, then he takes out his phone. “Fine.”