37. Matvey

37

MATVEY

My strength was never strategy. It was brute, overpowering force. Taking what I wanted, no matter the obstacles in my way. It's how I built the Groza Bratva back up from scratch, how I dragged it across the ocean and made it grow. Force of will, strength of hand: so far, it's the only strategy I've ever needed.

But now, I'm up against an enemy I can't see.

Now, brute force is no longer enough to get me where I want to go.

So I show up at work, gather the vory , and make my announcement. "It's time."

Yuri's eyes look ready to bulge out of their sockets. Grisha's, too, though it's less noticeable with him. His poker face has always been better than my brother's.

Neither of them questions me out loud, but I can hear their thoughts clear as day: What the hell?

I didn't warn them. That, too, was on purpose. After all, if I want to lure out the rats, I need my bait to look real—and real fucking juicy.

"This is a blueprint of the building we'll acquire."

I lay it out on the conference room table. Everyone stands up, craning their necks to see. "Why this one?" asks Vlad.

"For its position." I spread another roll-up over the first—a map. "This is the Bonaccorsi headquarters. And this is our building. As you can see, it's a straight jump from one rooftop to the other."

"That's how we invade?" Yuri frowns. "From the rooftop?"

"Yes." I continue my explanation. "There's just one problem—the building isn't a single property. It's been split up vertically between two companies. Technically speaking, we're looking at two completely separate entities."

"So which one do we buy?" Stanislav asks.

I grin. "Both."

Ipatiy clears his throat. "Pardon me for the insolence, pakhan … but isn't that a waste of resources?"

A few murmurs of agreement follow. I let them pass. My eyes are on the bigger picture now. "It would be," I concede, "if we were actually going to purchase both of them."

"We're not?" Gora asks.

"No. We're just going to make a play for both. That way, even if we lose one, we won't end up screwed."

Like last time. No one says it, but it's on everyone's mind: my most recent failure. "Do you have anyone in mind for the job?" Grisha asks, giving me the perfect chance to pivot.

"I do."

"Who?"

"Everyone."

The vory frown. "Everyone?" Vlad asks, unconvinced.

I pull out two folders and slide them in opposite directions on the table. "Team Groza. Team Solovyov. Congratulations: you each have a week to get me a building."

"We're… competing?" Stanislav frowns.

"Just a friendly challenge, of course. Put your best men on it: the winning team will get a chance to name our next vor. "

It's an opportunity no one can afford to pass up. Right now, the Groza and Solovyov vory are evenly matched. Whoever wins this will control the board vote-wise.

Not that it'll matter. I've always made my own decisions. I don't intend to change my ways.

But most vory don't know that. After the Ivan situation, they've probably been expecting some kind of shift. And if they think this is it, who am I to contradict them?

Stanislav picks up a folder. Vlad snatches away the other. "One week?" he splutters.

"One week."

Then they disperse.

Only Yuri and Grisha stay behind. As soon as the room empties, they both approach me. Then Yuri hisses, "What the hell was that?"

It's a testament to my good mood that I don't punish him. "That, brother, was strategy." He opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off. "Call Petra. Tell her to meet us at my place. The real meeting starts now."

"This better be good," Petra huffs, heel tapping impatiently. "I had to cancel a mani-pedi."

"And we're all grateful for your selfless sacrifice."

"I don't get it," Yuri mutters. "Why did you say all those things at the meeting?"

I don't justify myself. I've never felt the need, and I'm not going to start now. "Grisha. My bag."

Once I have it in my hands, it takes me less than a second to find what I'm looking for. "What I'm about to show you cannot leave this room. Only the four of us will know of it. Understood?"

Everybody nods.

Satisfied, I toss the contents on the table.

" Another roll-up?" Yuri cranes his neck to see. "What is it?"

"The plan. The real plan."

Petra leans over to inspect it. She slowly unrolls the corners, pinning them with paperweights as she goes. Her eyes trail over every inch of the blueprint. "Whose building is this?"

"Carmine's."

Three pairs of eyes go wide around me. "You've got to be kidding," Yuri says.

"And why's that?"

"Because this looks like… like…"

"Like you want to take the fight to Carmine directly," Grisha fills in. There's none of my brother's shock in his voice, only a vague glint of amusement. "Am I wrong?"

"Not at all." Then I hand over three folders.

"Great," Petra mutters. "More paper."

"Paper is untraceable," I remark. "Like this, the mole can't track us."

"I'm sorry, the what?"

Right. Guess it's time to break that particular glass. After all, this is a war council—and if that doesn't count as "in case of emergency"…

Besides, April's right. I need to start trusting the people around me. Even if it's only a handful of them, I can't keep going behind their backs. Either I'm in or I'm out. And Petra's more than proven herself.

"Someone's been spying for Carmine all along," I tell her. "That's how the first deal got blown up. We thought it was just Ivan, but we've started suspecting others."

"Like who?"

"Motya…" Yuri whispers in my ear.

But I press on. "Your father."

Petra's face freezes. For a split second, all movement in her stops. No one would call it "shock," but then again, very few are familiar with Petra's ways of handling emotions.

For better or worse, I've become one of them.

"I see," she rasps.

If this had been anyone else, they might have started screaming in my face—even fainted outright. But this isn't anyone else. This is Petra Solovyova, the Nightingale with wings of ice, and it takes her mere moments to collect herself, forcing her facial muscles to fall back into line. Back under her arctic control.

"I take it you knew?" she asks Yuri, her expression unreadable.

"He was acting under my orders," I cut in. "If you're going to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at me. I forced him not to tell you."

She gives a dry, bitter laugh. "How the tables have turned."

"It's not a given yet," Yuri tries to reassure her. "He might be innocent."

She scoffs. "My father's anything but innocent. But sure, do your worst."

"Petya…"

She rubs her temples and sighs. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not mad that you're investigating my father. I'm mad you thought I was too fragile to take it."

Then she slumps on the chair, the fight drained from her. I used to think pregnancy wouldn't have any effects on Petra—that she was just going to spawn like bacteria—but now, I can spot the signs: the fatigue, the skin-and-bones frailty. I wasn't close to April in her first and second trimesters, but if I had to guess, I'd say this is what taking breakfast hunched over the toilet looks like.

Who knew? My wife's human after all.

"Clearly, you're not."

She gives me a strained smile. "Gee, thanks. Are we gonna hug now?"

"Not a chance in hell."

"Good. I was ready to stab you if you tried."

Yuri sits down next to her. Gingerly, he takes her hand in his. "So are we…?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I'm not gonna dump you for keeping one flimsy secret from me. You're not even good at it."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, all the sneaking around, the guilty puppy looks. It was like you couldn't keep it in anymore."

"She thought you were either going to drop on one knee or drop off the face of the earth," I whisper jokingly into his ear, not nearly low enough to be subtle. "For God's sake, brother, do better."

Grisha clears his throat. "Hate to ruin the moment for our two lovebirds…"

"Yes, yes, the plan." Petra waves him on. "Let me guess. These are our starring roles?"

"They are," I confirm.

Everyone picks up the folder with their name on it. "Yuri, you'll be first up. I want you to plant a small bomb in the sewers under here."

"The basement?" he frowns. "Why?"

"The mole will expect us to go through the roof."

"Because that's what you told the vory you'd do," Grisha realizes.

"Exactly. If there really is a mole, we'll use them to our advantage. No one will be looking at the basement floor."

"How small a bomb are we talking?" Yuri asks.

"Small enough to make it look like the floor caved in on its own. We don't want to draw attention, not yet."

"Sounds reasonable," Grisha says. "What next?"

"Next, you come in. You'll hack into their communication system and intercept their call to the repairmen."

"Let me guess," Petra drawls. "That's where I come in?"

"It is. You'll pretend to be the secretary of a repair company and send in a crew."

"Our men, I take it?"

"Exactly."

Yuri's eyes light up with understanding. "So that other plan…"

"Was to keep the vory busy. And smoke out the mole."

"How?"

I smirk. "You'll see. We'll all see, soon enough."