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Mikhail is already there and waiting by the entrance to the building by the time I arrive.
“Ready?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “Not particularly.”
He nods, sharing my sentiment. There are few men alive who scare us as much as Konstantin. That man is the Devil incarnate. Every word out of his mouth is poison, never without motive or hidden intention. He may be locked up in The Pit, but the man has a ridiculously complex network. We’re pretty sure he’s completely isolated from the outside world, but when it comes to our uncle, we can’t truly know.
Mikhail and I take the elevator down to the very bottom of the building. On the outside, it looks like any other abandoned warehouse. What people don’t realize is that we’ve built a fortress beneath the earth, designed to keep Konstantin hidden away for good. Even on the off chance he managed to escape, he’d have to get through several floors of winding concrete, armed guards, attack dogs, and surveillance cameras.
We finally arrive, the elevator doors opening to reveal a large, mostly empty chamber. In the middle, our prisoner sits in a cell of thick, bulletproof glass. Inside, he’s got all the comforts a man could ask for: a comfortable bed and warm blankets, a section cordoned off for his bathroom needs, a writing desk and lamp for extra light.
The chamber itself is air conditioned and kept at a comfortable temperature. Food is brought to him three times a day, his meals hot and nutritious. And when he’s bored, he’s allowed to borrow books—but only if he’s been on his best behavior. Captivity aside, Konstantin lives very well. We’ve treated him with far more dignity than he frankly deserves. With more dignity than he dared to show Lev.
Konstantin hasn’t changed much in the five years we’ve held him here. His hair is thinner, whiter. He’s lost a bit of weight. All in all, though, he seems just as sharp and calculating as ever.
“My dear nephews,” he says with a hearty laugh. “Goodness, you both look like shit. Bratva life is a lot harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it?”
I set my jaw. “We’re not here to make pleasantries.”
“No, I didn’t think so.” Konstantin remains seated on the edge of his bed, setting aside the newspaper he’s reading. It’s four weeks old, so the news is outdated, yet another way we ensure he can’t keep a finger on the pulse.
“We want information,” Mikhail says firmly.
“It’s going to cost you.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Depends,” Uncle Konstantin replies with a shrug. “What do you want to know?”
My brother and I exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. We can’t afford to be honest with Konstantin. Right now, our advantage is in his isolation from the rest of the world. Knowledge is power, and right now, we hold the king’s share.
“Levitsky,” I say. “Ever heard the name?”
Konstantin inspects his nails for non-existent dirt. “Maybe.”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of them. They were once trusted allies of the Antonovs.”
My chest tightens. “What happened to them?”
Konstantin clicks his tongue. “You’re not getting anything else out of me until I get whatIwant.”
Mikhail’s lips press into a thin line. “Spit it out.”
Our uncle rises from the edge of his bed and walks to the edge of his glass prison. He smiles at us wickedly. “I want out.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck, dear nephew.”
“Ask for something else,” Mikhail snaps.
“I don’t want anything else. Just my freedom.”
“Like hell we’re letting you out of here,” I grumble. “You’d only find a way to stab us in the back.”
Konstantin’s smile falters ever so slightly, giving way to the real monster beneath the mask. “I hear you found my little brother,” he says, his words dripping with bitterness. “Tell me, howisLev doing?”
