Page 51 of The Pakhan’s Heir

He takes a moment, looking down at his cup before speaking. “I received word about something a little while ago that you’re not going to want to hear. Before I tell you, I must insist that you hear me out before you write it off entirely.”

I frown at him. “Okay,” I say.

He pauses, then sets his coffee cup down on the coaster. “It’s about Nona, Alex. I’ve received word that she met with her father a few mornings back at a local coffee shop.”

I cock my head at him. My hearing must be going bad. “You what?”

“I’ve had eyes on her since you were married,” he confesses. “Just as a precaution, and up until now, there’s never been anything to report. Everywhere she’s gone, everything she’s done, it was all above board.”

“Until now.” The warmth of the cup in my hands is the only thing I can feel right now. My entire body has gone numb.

He hesitates, watching me carefully for a reaction. Then he goes on.

“On Wednesday morning, Nona left your house and took the train to Park Avenue to a coffee shop a few blocks away from Central Park. On her way, she got a phone call, presumably from her father. After the phone call, she went to the coffee shop where he was waiting for her. Pretty sure it was him calling to tell her that he was there.”

I nod slowly. Even though the treaty has been broken, Slavik is still her father. There could be a million reasons she went to meet up with him. “Do you know what they discussed?”

“Slavik might be reckless at times, but he’s no fool,” he says. “He positioned himself in a space where he couldn’t be easily heard and where he could see if he was being observed.”

“Well,” I say, “there could have been any number of things that Nona could have been talking about with her father. He is her father.”

Kostya stares at me for a long moment, then he says, “Alex, she knows that her father’s Bratva claimed responsibility for your father’s death. Why on earth would she meet with him, knowing that you’re out for his head?”

I can’t answer that. My logic only makes sense if there’s no bad blood between our Bratvas. Nona knows, possibly better than anyone, that meeting with the enemy is a bad look.

“You think she’s the traitor?” I ask Kostya directly.

“I think that it looks bad in light of everything that’s going on,” he says. “And it’s worth further investigation.”

“Which you’re going to do.”

“As I said, my loyalty is to my Pakhan and my Bratva.” He leans into me, a very personal, very serious look in his eye. “I know that the two of you have gotten closer since Fedor’s death and if those feelings are real, I don’t want to be the one to disrupt them, but this is our life, Brother. Anyone who is trying to tear it apart is an enemy.”

I know he’s right. If I were the one on the other side of this table, I’d be telling him the same thing. But Nona betraying me this way…

“Do whatever you have to do,” I say to him. “But do not act without my permission. Is that clear?”

He pauses. “Alex⁠—”

“Is that clear?”

He nods and sits back, picking up his coffee cup. “Crystal.”

“Good.” I set the coffee down on the table, sans coaster. I’m too upset to think about protecting his precious coffee table’s finish. I stand up. “If you hear anything else, and I do mean anything, I want to be the first to know.”

“Of course.”

My mind on the drive home has been noisy with thoughts. Nona being a mole this whole time…

In a way, it makes sense. Her father agrees to this arrangement because he sees an opportunity to plant someone right in the middle of my inner circle. Maybe she gets word to him that her plans aren’t going right, so he creates a situation that puts enough cracks in my armor so that she can slither her way in.

The ambush on us was a setup by the Irkutsks. That much has been established. My father’s instincts about the whole thing being fishy were right on target. Had he spoken to the leader of the Devils in the first place, they might’ve tipped him off that we were being set up.

But he didn’t and it’s what got him killed. And in the moment, I almost fell apart… and that was just what Nona needed to get herself under my defenses.

Dammit. I can’t believe she got to me so easily. As I turn down my block, all I can think about is how I let those big, innocent eyes get to me.

And then I see her sitting on the stoop. She does that sometimes when the weather is good. She’s leaning back in a chair she’s set up out here, book in hand, oblivious to the world.