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One of Viktor’s hands releases from my arm and floats up to my hair as I continue to unbutton his shirt. Maybe he knows I’m right and we’ll leave this place together, starting over just as I suggested. There will be no war for Viktor to die in. No lies I’ll need to worry about Viktor discovering.
We can leave this horrific chapter of our lives behind.
When I reach for Viktor’s belt to unfasten it, I feel a sharp pull at the back of my scalp. I screech at the sensation and let my head fall backwards so my eyes meet Viktor’s.
“I’ll only say this once,” he growls at me. He stares at me with the same frigid, determined look he had the first time he walked into my cell. I whimper, recalling what Viktor is capable of. His teeth are clenched, tensing the muscles of his lower jaw as he finishes his response, halting between every word.
“I. Don’t. Run.”
Chapter19
VIKTOR
The row of offices that typically sit empty is a flurry of activity. Eugeny is at his desk as he usually is, likely trying to scare up information on what happened to the ownership records and contents of the warehouse. The shattered glass from Vadim’s outburst is still spread across the floor. Grigor is inside his office leaning against a row of cabinets, flicking small pebbles of glass with the tip of his boot as he talks on the phone. I march past, continuing to the room at the end of the hall, where I can hear the rest of the men. Sergey isn’t around, but he’s usually outside on security detail during the day.
I walk into a darkened office with a series of monitors hanging from the back wall. Kalash, Bodhan, and Vadim are sitting in chairs reviewing footage. Vadim leans back in his chair with a look of seething fury on him. I don’t blame him. I love a good battle, but not when it’s potentially with one of your own. Betrayal stings, and when you’re in this business, it’s only a matter of time before someone tries to betray you. This is a life full of men who crave power and the delusion that when the fighting ends, you’ll be the man at the top. But it never ends. There’s always someone ready for battle, reckless enough to think he’s ready to take on the person at the top.
I turn my head up, joining the men in the room in studying the video for any clues. So far, everything looks the same as it did when Vadim, Grigor, and I were there a few days ago. A vast grid of pallets stacked one on the other covering most of the floor space, leaving pathways wide enough for pallet trucks, but little else. Security guards do periodic walks around the perimeter. Bodhan leans over the controls, speeding through the lulls in activity until the door to the docks opens.
“Slow down,” Vadim mutters at Bodhan. He reduces the playback speed to real time. A security guard initially questions the man waiting outside, but they have a conversation and he eventually lets them inside. A few minutes later, a group of men follows the first one to enter. They’re all wearing caps or hats which doesn’t seem suspicious given the cold outside, but it obscures the view of their faces. At a few points in the video, one man approaches a camera close enough to be identified, but leans his head downwards, as if someone trained him on the exact location of the security cameras.
Eugeny enters, hooking his arm on the doorway and joining us in watching the video before he enters all the way inside. He waits until we finish watching the warehouse empty pallet by pallet, each of them scooped up on a truck and hauled to some unknown location.
Someone has the entire arsenal of the Mikhailov Bratva in their possession. I can’t imagine going this far andnotplanning to use the weapons to launch an attack against us.
Bodhan stops the video when the activity inside the warehouse ends.
“I called an old girlfriend who works for the Land Registry,” Eugeny announces. “She pulled up more details. There is a pending application of ownership for the warehouse for some company based in Chicago called Great Lakes Passages.”
Vadim’s eyes flash when Eugeny says the company name. He tenses his brows as he leans forward in his chair.
“It’s not one of our companies,” Eugeny adds. “Before now, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Sound familiar?” I ask Vadim. He glares at me and says nothing in return, but I’m not letting this go. I lean my head to the side to prod him along. “Whose company is that, Vadim?”
Eugeny clears his throat and holds a paper in front of him, reading from it. “Owner is listed as Bruno Stepanov,” Eugeny says. He lifts his eyes to Vadim before continuing. “Boris Stepanov’s son.”
I think about the day I met Boris in the bathhouse with the rest of the elders, the way Boris and Vadim took time out to greet each other personally, as if it were a family reunion.
Vadim thins his lips and shakes his head. “No. This isn’t right.”
“Both of Boris’ sons live in Chicago, Vadim,” Grigor chimes in. “I’m sure Bruno and Semion wouldn’t mind taking ownership of our weapons.”
“Boris wouldn’t do this,” Vadim says in a way that makes me think he doesn’t even believe himself. “This is a setup. Something to make it look like the Stepanovs did it.”
“He’s moving against you!” I shout to Vadim.
“Do you know him?” Vadim says. “Because you’re speaking as if you do. That would be quite surprising, given Boris Stepanov has been a part of my life since I was a boy.”
He leans closer to me, giving me a quick up-and-down look. “You weren’t.”
I nod in acceptance of that fact. It’s not something I had control over, but it’s futile to argue that point.
“Boris Stepanov is in a fortunate position,” I say, half thinking aloud. “Both of his sons grew uparoundthe business, but they’re off in America. In a big city like Chicago, no less. They never had to bloody their hands to build an empire for themselves. You did. You have the largest Bratva organization under your command, and it was all under the fatherly guidance of Boris Stepanov.”
Vadim leans his head and narrows his eyes. “Your point being?” he asks.
“How easy would it be for him to keep you close, standing back while you build the empire he wants for himself and his sons?”
