Page 20 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

“There’s no proof, though. And now he’s dead, so the trail dies with him unless someone else talks.”

I clench my jaw and turn away, watching the passing traffic. The Dravenko Bratva runs on blood loyalty. My father drilled that into me from the time I could walk. Blood sustains the empire. Without it, everything crumbles.

I’ve only just begun the process of bringing my heir into this world, and already this shadow falls across it.

The timing gnaws at me. An heir would solidify my line, but if someone moves against me now, before the child even exists, everything I built goes away in the blink of an eye.

It’s no wonder this plot is unfolding now, but whoever or whatever is doing this, I know Pyotr wasn’t involved.

I just don’t know who is.

We pull up to the warehouse where blue lights are already flashing everywhere.

Police swarm the entire scene.

Yellow tape cordons off the area, and a small cluster of police vehicles sits parked at odd angles.

Akim stands near the entrance, arms crossed with a grim expression I pick up on even from a distance.

Demid kills the engine and looks over his shoulder, frowning. “Just brace yourself, boss. I don’t know what he’s going to say.”

Nodding, I step out, buttoning my jacket against the evening chill.

My men at the perimeter nod in respect as I pass and not a single man here stops me from walking up to my own building.

I’m not sure the police give a rats’ ass, but my men know better than to try to get in my way, even for my own protection in a situation like this.

Akim falls into step beside me. “It’s bad, Boss. Pyotr took two to the chest. He didn’t go quickly.” He sounds feral, like he wants to tear someone limb from limb. He and Pyotr were closer than brothers, and they have the scars to prove it.

I silently scan the scene and take in the sights. Forensic techs move around the body, which still lies where it fell.

Two investigators in plain clothes confer nearby. One of them, Detective Harlan, catches my eye.

He has been on my payroll long enough to know how this works. He separates from his partner and walks over to me.

“Mr. Dravenko,” he says, offering a handshake that looks professional from a distance. “This happened on your property. My partner thinks it’s a rival hit, so I pulled the preliminary footage.”

He slips a phone from his pocket and shows me a still image. Pyotr stands near a side door, arguing with another man.

The stranger’s face is turned partially away, but the build and posture don’t ring any immediate bells.

I study it for a long moment, committing details to memory.

If this is the man they say hit my soldier, he’s going to have a reckoning when he meets me face to face.

“I don’t recognize him,” I say. “Clean it up and send the full file to Akim. I want every frame.”

Harlan nods but he grumbles, “There’s more, sir.” His eyes are shifty. They’ve always been that way. He was on his way to being dirty long before we ever struck an accord, and now that he’s on my payroll he’s even dirtier. The man is a viper in a suit.

“Well out with it,” I snarl, sick of his games and impatient to get answers.

“Pyotr wasn’t dead when we arrived. Paramedics got here first. He was conscious, panicking. He kept shouting that they were coming for you. ‘They’re going to kill Bastian.’ He repeated it until he bled out but no one knew who ‘Bastian’ was until just now.” He glances over his shoulder where two uniforms stand eyeing me, talking quietly.

I’m not infamous in this city, but I’m not invisible either. I keep my nose clean enough no one can pin anything on me, but they all have their suspicions.

The way those uniforms are chatting, it makes me think they’re thinking about just how to do that.

Akim shifts and huffs before he crosses his arms over his chest, pushing his biceps out farther. “If they’re bold enough to move on Pyotr here, they’re testing you. We need to get you somewhere safe. Off the streets, out of sight for a while until we sort this.”