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“I… I…”
“The next words out of your mouth better be useful to me.”
“Okay!” he practically shouts, a trickle of sweat dripping down the side of his face. “Fine. I know Simon Maher. I hired him.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told to.”
I narrow my eyes. “By your brother.”
“He’s my half-brother.” Alexei is eager to make that clarification. “One of his men showed up and made the demand. Petyr couldn’t even ask me to do it himself.”
That’s noteworthy. The fucker is actually scared shitless of moving out in the open. Perhaps I’ve been giving him too much credit.
“We hadn’t even talked in months before then. And we haven’t talked since.”
“So why did you do it?”
“Because you can’t say no to Petyr,” Alexei murmurs. “He would have killed me if I tried, just for knowing what he wanted done. That’s how it works with him. Either your hands are just as dirty as his, or you’re a loose end.”
I believe him. There is no part of me that doubts his story.
It’s why I decide to let him live.
Killing a man is one thing. Especially a guilty man. But Alexei Ivanov is just a scared kid, too stupid to know he should run away and never look back.
So I holster my gun. As I head to the door, Alexei jumps out of the way, keeping a safe distance between us, like he’s expecting me to turn around and finish him at any moment.
I stop at the threshold. “Your brother killed mine. Some would call it poetic justice if I were to kill you right now.”
His eyes bug out with fear.
“But those people would be wrong,” I continue. “Poetic justice would be killing someone that Petyr actually cares for. And he clearly doesn’t give a shit about you.”
He gulps, as if he isn’t quite sure whether he should be relieved or offended.
“Take it from a man who loved his brother: stay away from Petyr,” I warn. “Get out of this cursed city and drop off his radar for good. Start your life over somewhere else, out of his shadow and his hold. You hear me?”
The kid nods, but he’s still more worried about being shot in the head than anything I’m saying. Hopefully, he’ll process my wisdom later. If not, he’ll die. Either way, it’s no longer my problem.
Konstantin is waiting for me by the stairs. He’s leaning against the railing, his legs crossed at the ankle. “Is the kid dead?”
“I spared him.”
Konstantin smirks. “You’re getting soft.”
“He’s a stupid boy. Still a child. I’m not going to hold him accountable for the sins of his brother. I may be a don, but I’m no monster.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just that you spoke and all I heard was Maksim.”
For the first time in a long time, the comparison doesn’t sting. I take it in stride. If the best I can do is emulate my brother…
I’m okay with that.
