34. Yuri

I knew she would leave but that didn’t make things any easier. I knew Nikita would watch over her, protect her at Viktor’s house and that he would tell Anton about any plans her father might cook up to sell her again.

I knew I couldn’t stop her— not this time. Not without breaking that delicate thing growing between us— Love.

We both knew. And now, after everything I went through with Petya— hell everything she went through with Petya— I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.

I love her.

Simple as that.

I love her and that means I had to let her go, see if she would come back to me. Let her figure out she belongs by my side in the Bratva.

Anton came to see me, still destroyed by Maxim’s death and unable to focus his rage and unleash it on some target. “She left this,” he said, handing me a folded paper. My heart leapt at the thought she shared her personal thoughts with me.

“Nik will watch her closely,” Anton assured me. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“I know,” I told him, taking the note she left for me. It was too flimsy was my first reaction, my heart falling. I must get control of these silly emotions, there’s still work to do.

Still, I allowed myself this last piece of emotion, but it was all business:

Y-

Petya told me a story about a guy named Danilo Kis. A terrible, twisted story that I won’t repeat but it was important to him. He said he thought about that guy a lot. Maybe that’s his password. Just a thought.

-K

“Come with me Anton. Katya might have solved our problems with the password. Worth a shot.”

We walked into my office and I get out Tasha’s laptop and the encrypted disk she had recovered. This would tie up a lot of loose ends and find out where all the Kolesova Bratva money was going. My guess was outright theft by Viktor and poor investments, swindles he was caught up in.

I typed DANILO KIS as the password and after the briefest stutter, the computer unlocked.

Just like that.

Thanks Kiska .

I start going through the files, the money statements stretching back decades, but I stop at the month of Dmitry’s death.

Payment to Petya.

Viktor paid him to kill his only son? Why?

The why didn’t matter now. It was a fact and didn’t need explanation.

But the deal was for more than money.

Katya was the final payment.

Panic sets in, then my mind settles, steals itself. Two hours by car. Call Katya. Warn her. Call Nikita.

I’m down the stairs grabbing Anton by the arm and hustling him out the door with me while I dial Katya, “Call Nikita, now.”

I’m going after my girl and God help Viktor if he’s harmed a hair on her head.

I call her but straight to voicemail. Anton is getting the same from Nikita. What does this mean? We’re hours away from her even breaking every traffic law there is. I keep trying.

I text. Everything I can think of.

We’re in my car and driving as I dial her phone again.