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Uncle Luka is texting me directly.
I’ve already got a ping in the system. Sending profile to you now.
I’m glad you two are safe, kid.
Watching the footage leaves me sick and cold. The camera was mounted to a business from across the street, high enough to provide the perfect angle to see everything unfold.
I see my brother, arriving a few minutes before I arrived; my own car shows up not even thirty seconds after.
And then all chaos breaks loose. The gunmen hops the curve, climbs out of his car, can be seen talking as he raises his gun to fire. I pause the video, doing my best not to gag. I saw Frederick get shot. I don’t want to see it again. The only thing I’m interested in is getting a good look at the man’s face.
His eyes are unhinged, laced with something vengeful and frighteningly sad. Something about his presence at the scene of the shootout doesn’t make sense. I study the look on his face. It feels so…personal.
My phone buzzes again. Uncle Luka has sent me the man’s profile. At first, I figure it’s because the shooter is a hardened criminal with a mile-long rap sheet. How else could he have pinged in the database so quickly? But what I discover instead is a million times worse.
His name is Detective Gregor Ivanovich. 62 years old. Wife and daughter deceased. He’s currently suspended with pay from the police department. Has been seen coming and going from the Nicolaevich Brothers Taxi Company depot several times this past month.
The pictures he attaches are the final nail in the coffin. It’s the same man, talking face-to-face with Andrei himself.
“He was working with the cops,” I mutter under my breath. “That bastard was working with the fuckingcops!”
It’s one thing to attack my family, but to work with the police? That’s a line no self-respecting Bratva head is willing to cross. It would certainly explain how someone was able to hack into my phone. Who knows what resources the police could have afforded Andrei if they really have decided to team up to destroy me and the Antonov Bratva.
This information solidifies what my heart has been dreading all along. Andrei is a traitor, a snitch—
And as good as dead to me.
Chapter 26
Andrei
We’re holding our own. As a matter of fact, we’re doing phenomenally on the warfront. No major losses, and my brothers and I have even managed to gain traction in the east, driving back Antonov presence long enough to swoop in to claim their abandoned territory. Ishouldbe over the moon about this…
I’m nothing but bitter, angry, and anxious.
My attempts to track down Ivanovich have been fruitless. I’ve turned over every stone, checked every dark corner—nothing. The man vanished like the wind and is probably hiding for his life.
Which is smart, considering I’m going to kill him.
The Antonovs have gone into hiding, too. Not the entire Bratva, but the core family. My network of informants can’t seem to locate Mikhail, any of his brothers, or Sandra. They’re operating from the shadows—a distinct advantage where they’re concerned—but in a strange way, I’m almost glad. I can breathe a little easier knowing Sandra is far from the violence.
But sooner or later, I know I’m going to have to face her. And when I do…
It’s going to be her, or me.
I don’t think there’s a man alive who’d call me a coward, but in this moment, I certainly feel like one. I don’t want to have to hurt Sandra. Not now, not in a month, not in a year. Once upon a time, she was just another piece of the puzzle. A steppingstone to achieving my goals. A month ago, I wouldn’t have had any qualms about using her as a means to an end.
But now?
I could never.
Morning, noon, and night—I think of her. No matter what I do, I can’t get her voice out of my head.
If you’re going to kill me, do it now.
Come on. I’m wide fucking open!
As if I could ever bring myself to pull the trigger.
