52. Matvey

52

MATVEY

Meet me here.

"Fucking finally," I mutter under my breath. So my brother isn't dead after all.

My eyes scan the location attached to Yuri's unusually cryptic text: a café in the smack-middle of Times Square. "What the hell is he thinking?"

I start to type a reply, but another text from him comes right after.

It's important.

Goddammit. "Grisha, change of plans. We're stopping here first."

He cranes his neck at the first red light and squints at my phone. "Busy place to be. Probably won't be able to find parking."

"No matter. I'll bring the earpiece so you can stay looped in."

"Meeting someone, then?"

"Yes," I sigh, irritated. "My ghost of a brother. He finally deigned to return my texts. Now, he wants to meet."

"In the most inconvenient place in the city?"

"Apparently. But he says it's important, so we're going."

"Roger that, boss."

I have Grisha drop me off on a side street, then walk the rest of the way there. The café is crowded, exactly the kind of place I'd never choose to have a sensitive meeting in. I hope my brother has a damn good reason to drag me out here, because otherwise, there'll be hell to pay.

I spot Yuri at a table outside. "Where the fuck have you been?" I growl.

"Sit."

What's with the attitude? I try to hook his gaze, but he keeps evading me. With no other choice, I drop down in the opposite chair. "I've been trying to reach you for days, Yuri."

"I know. I've been busy."

"Too busy to let your pregnant girlfriend know?"

That seems to have an effect. He finally lifts his eyes from the table, a trace of guilt in them. "Petra was…?"

"Worried sick? Yeah," I grunt. "She didn't say it in so many words, but I could tell."

He bites his lip and nods. "Thank you. For taking care of her."

Weird. Ever since I got here, that's all I can think of: everything about Yuri seems weird today. Something's just… off.

"What's going on, brother? If you found the mole?—"

"Shut up."

I raise my eyebrows. "Ex-fucking-scuse me?"

"I said shut up," Yuri repeats with icy calm. "You're not the one in charge here, Matvey. I am. And I'm the one speaking."

"I have no idea what's gotten into you," I growl, all concern forgotten in a heartbeat, "but you'd do well to remember I'm your pakhan , Yuri."

"No, you're not. Not anymore."

Then he slides something my way.

I'm so livid I can barely fucking think. What the hell is going on with my brother? Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?

And then, through the fog of rage, I see it.

A picture.

It's April, handcuffed and behind the bars of some damp warehouse cell. She's lying on the dirty floor, eyes shut, passed out cold. On the other side of the bars, a faceless man holds a bundle in his arms.

No, not just a bundle.

Our daughter.

For a long moment, I can't even process it. I tell myself I must be seeing things. Because this can't be real. It can't.

It has to be a nightmare.

But no matter how hard I stare, the image doesn't change. No matter how hard I bite my tongue, I don't wake up.

And no matter how hard I wish I was wrong, Yuri's eyes don't change.

"It was you," I rasp. "All along, it was you."

I've been so blind. So, so fucking blind.

The mole was someone from the inner circle. Someone who knew our every move, who could keep Carmine one step ahead of us at every turn. Someone who could access the logs, manipulate the reports, keep the search off-course.

Someone who had my full trust.

I kick back my chair and grab him by the collar. "Tell me it's not true." Because even now, with all this damning evidence in front of me, a part of me wants to believe in him. My little brother—my family. My blood.

Yuri kills that hope with two words. "It's true."

BAM!

I watch him reel from my punch. I'm breathing heavily now, nostrils flared, my vision red. Blood trickles from Yuri's cheekbone, and all I can think is that I should've picked a better spot to hit: snapped his nose in half, blinded him in one eye.

"You betrayed me," I spit.

He wipes the blood away calmly. "I'm gonna let you have that one because you're upset. But if you don't get your hands off me in the next five seconds, we're gonna have a problem. Or rather, they are." His eyes flit to the picture to make his point.

"You'd do this to them? To me ?!" I yell, uncaring of all the other guests staring at us. "Your own blood?!"

Unexpectedly, Yuri laughs. It's a crazed, manic sound, clashing with his personality like nails on a chalkboard. "Blood?" he scoffs. "We're not blood, Matvey. We've never been blood."

I fall silent.

What does that even mean? If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's the tie that binds us: blood. Thicker than water, thicker than anything.

"Explain yourself," I order.

"Gladly."

And he begins.

It was the day of the DNA test.

Back then, you didn't trust April as far as you could throw her. You didn't know her, didn't know what she wanted from you. So you entrusted me with the most important task you'd ever given me.

Determining if the child was truly yours.

I don't think you realize how much I looked up to you then. I don't think you ever did. You were this big, strong pakhan who could conquer every country he set foot in. Russia killed so many of us. If it hadn't been for you, it would've killed me, too.

I wanted to prove myself so badly.

But something went wrong. The hair sample you gave me—by the time I got to the lab, I realized I'd lost it. It wasn't the end of the world, but it was the end of the world to me. Because I'd made a mistake, and you didn't tolerate mistakes.

So I improvised. I took a few strands of my own hair and gave them to the technician. I thought, why not? The match wouldn't be as high, but it would still be there. If the kid was yours, that is.

Then the test came back negative.

I didn't even think to question it, you know? I was so sure April had lied to you. I was about to tell you as much.

Then I got a call.

I don't know how he found me. My guess is the same way he found April: he was keeping tabs on lab reports, anything tied to your name or hers. Maybe he was always going to call.

When he told me who he was, I was ready to hang up. I told him to stay the fuck away from me. From us.

But there was no "us."

See, your research was right… up to a point. Carmine did have a relationship with my mother.

But by then, she already had a child.

Her husband had died, she said, of sickness. The same sickness that took everyone back then: cold, hunger, poverty. She needed protection, and he needed somewhere to lay low.

Then they parted ways.

I don't know if it was before the sickness or after. My memories are fuzzy, and I doubt he'd tell me the truth if it didn't serve his purposes. I'm not stupid.

But he was telling the truth on one thing.

I didn't believe him, of course, so I sought the answer for myself. I swiped a few strands of hair from one of your jackets, ran the test again, then ran a new one. Not between you and April's child—between you and me.

Can you guess what it said?

All my life, I'd thought I had one thing: a brother. A brother who was my hero, who saved me from the snow and helped me make something of myself. Who gave me a real shot at life.

But I didn't.

At first, I didn't care. So what if we weren't actually related? We were brothers in everything that mattered. We grew up together, came here together, built our empire together. Surely one piece of paper couldn't change that?

And yet, I knew it would.

Because there was nothing you trusted more than blood.

So when Carmine called again, I answered.

He told me what would happen to me if you found out. That you'd be disgusted with me, get rid of me the first chance you got. I argued viciously, but I couldn't bury my head in the sand forever. The more I denied them, the more Carmine's grim words made sense.

You trusted me because I was your brother. And now, I wasn't. I was just a nobody who knew too much.

I was so scared you'd kill me.

But Carmine said he didn't mind that I wasn't his biological son. He was in the market for a successor. As long as I played my part, he would welcome me with open arms.

I felt so sick, I threw up then and there.

I hung up without giving him an answer. He said it was fine; he could wait. He'd need a favor soon. I could give him my answer then.

I was torn up inside. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but I was terrified. What if I lost you? What if I lost more than you?

I hoped you'd change your mind. That April would change it.

But your mind wasn't changing at all. Even with her in the mix, you were adamant: blood was the only thing that mattered. Without that, there was nothing.

Then Carmine called in that favor. You were planning a war against him, and he wanted to know where you'd strike. To cut off your legs before the start of the race.

He wanted the D.C. acquisition.

So I gave it to him.

I had no other choice. I was terrified out of my mind. I wanted to be loyal, but I didn't want to die.

I didn't join him then. I thought I could sweep this under the rug and still stay by your side. Instead, I asked for only one thing in return: Do not tell him.

How na?ve I was.

The lie caught up to me. I didn't cover my tracks well enough: soon, Ivan realized something was wrong with the logs. That someone from the inner circle was selling information to the enemy. He asked me to tell you. He thought it'd be better coming from me. Maybe this would finally push you into action.

He didn't know he was signing his death sentence.

I never wanted to lie to you, Matvey. Until then, I hadn't. I was guilty of omission, but that was where it ended. Even when I hid April away, I did my best to avoid it.

That day, I lied.

I lied to your face. I brought you the information because Ivan gave me no other choice, but I couldn't tell you it was me. Instead, I let you suspect everyone around you.

And then Ivan lost his patience.

When you killed him, I hoped the truth would die with him. But you kept searching. You found Anatoly. And I knew it was only a matter of time before he talked.

I should have killed him while I had the chance.

When you sent me off that last day, I didn't follow Vlad. I followed you. I needed to know what you knew.

Then you went to the warehouse.

I knew then I had to make a choice. And this time, it wasn't just my life on the line.

It was my family's.

So I don't care what you think of me. I don't care if I've become a monster. I don't care if you understand why I did it.

Because the truth is, I did.

Every word out of Yuri's mouth fills me with horror. The past few months come flashing in front of my eyes: the lies, the betrayals, the changes.

That's when I realize something else.

I can't remember the last time Yuri called me "brother."

When did it stop? When? I rack my brain for an answer and come up short. When did this nightmare begin? When did my Yura become this stranger in front of me?

After the failed wedding , something inside me whispers. Think back. Remember.

Yes. It all started then.

It's uncanny how quickly the dominoes fall into place. All it needs is the right push—and Yuri just gave a giant fucking shove.

Once. Only once did he call me his brother after that: the day he begged me to save Petra.

To use you. To manipulate you.

I slam my fist on the table and hear the wood crack. "You filthy traitor."

"Don't make a scene," Yuri warns me. "We're not done talking."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not. So stay put or I'm gonna have to make you."

The worst of it, though? I fucking knew it. I knew he was acting strangely. The guilty looks, the sneaking around, the reluctance to so much as meet my eyes. I chalked it all up to his clandestine relationship with Petra because it was convenient, but fuck me, I should've kept looking.

You wouldn't have seen it. You didn't want to see it.

That's right: I didn't want to see it.

And now, April and May are in danger because of it.

"You're threatening me?" I hiss. " You ? When I'm the one who taught you how to hold a fucking gun in the first place?"

"Yes. And you taught me well, so don't make me take it out."

"We both know I'm the faster draw."

"And we both know I'm not dumb enough to come alone."

I grit my teeth. He has me. God fucking dammit. Of course I didn't think to bring reinforcements—I thought I was meeting my brother. My own flesh and blood.

But it turns out I didn't know who I was meeting at all.

"Fine. If you're gonna talk, then talk."

I dig my nails into my thigh until I can feel them through the fabric of my suit. All I want right now is to grab him again and punch him until he sees sense. But I can't. No matter how badly I want to teach him a lesson, I can't do it while cornered.

And I certainly can't do it at the expense of my family.

He has them hostage: my woman, my daughter. And my hands are tied. If there's even the slightest chance we're being watched, I have to play by the rules.

His rules.

For now.

"Release my family," I growl. "Do that and I'll spare your worthless life."

He clicks his tongue in distaste. "‘Family.' How quickly you crossed me out of that. So I was right all along."

"After what you did? You're lucky you're still fucking breathing." I glare at him with all the hatred I feel. "You lied to me. You manipulated me. You made me kill a friend and now, you kidnapped my woman and my daughter!"

"I didn't make you do anything," he replies curtly. "And the girls will be fine if you do as I say."

Carmine is here. Finally, the true meaning of Ivan's last words dawns on me. It wasn't a threat—it was a warning.

He knew. During our fight, he must've realized what truly happened. He used his final breath to warn me.

And I killed him.

"You have three days to surrender yourself," Yuri says. "If you do, no harm will come to your family. They will be released and provided for."

"I can damn well provide for my own family."

"No, you can't," the traitor replies. "But you have my word. They will lack for nothing."

"Some fucking word that is."

"And yet, it's all you have. So take it or leave it."

He rises. I immediately regret not punching him harder when I had the chance to. But there's something else I regret, deeper and sharper, buried under the fire of my rage.

The fact that it had to come to this.

"Here's the address." Yuri slides over a business card. "In three days' time, at dawn. After that, I can't protect your family anymore."

"You never protected them," I spit. "You sold them out."

For a moment, Yuri's eyes cloud over with emotion. It's too quick to grasp, but in that split-second, he almost looks like he's back to his old self again. Almost.

"I did what I had to do."

Then it's gone.

"Three days," he repeats as he fixes his shirt. "Don't forget."

"You're dead to me."

"I know."

When he passes me by, he hesitates. Just for a second. Just enough to make me wonder if his hands are really shaking. "Goodbye, Matvey."

Then he walks away.

I wait for his steps to fade. For his presence to disappear. Afterwards, I tap my earpiece. "Did you get all that, Grisha?"

"… Yes. I did."

"Good." I rise. "Gather the vory . This ends now."