34. Andrey

34

ANDREY

There are three names on the piece of paper Shura hands me.

Anatoly.

Vasily.

"Efrem?" I try to hand the paper back to him. There must be a mistake. "What the fuck, Shura?"

He crosses his arms tightly. "You told me to keep my eyes and ears open and vet the men. Those are the names. I stand by them."

"Efrem is part of the inner circle."

"His father was on the plane with Slavik when he flew out of here," Shura reminds me. "Or have you forgotten?"

I rise to my feet. "I forget nothing."

My hands flex, the paper crumbling in my palm. I'm so fucking close to upending my own damn desk. It's one thing to lose lesser vory to Slavik—it's a whole different ball game losing my most trusted men to his cause.

"Are they all on the grounds?" I grit out.

"All of them."

"Send them in."

"Together?"

I make a split-second decision. "Together."

Shura slips out of my office as I turn to the windows. The night is dark and quiet except for the rustling of trees. Leonty is outside Natalia's door on duty. She was sleeping when I left a few hours ago. It took all my willpower to disentangle myself from her arms.

Only to leave and deal with this shit.

When Shura returns a few minutes later, accompanied by the three traitors, only Efrem seems bothered by being summoned. His eyes are puffy with sleep and he doesn't even try to hide the scowl on his face.

"Who's making trouble now, boss?" Efrem asks. "Slavik or the Rostov fucker?"

My heart clenches as I search their faces for signs of what they've done. "Sit down, all of you."

Shura alone remains standing behind the three men. Only I spy the gun in his holster.

"Efrem is already aware of this," I start, addressing Vasily and Anatoly first, "but Slavik is back."

Vasily nods. "We've heard rumors, boss. Is he here for good?"

"Not only is he here for good, he's here to take back the Bratva."

Vasily and Anatoly make a good show of looking shocked, but I won't be so easily swayed.

"Can he do that?" Vasily demands.

"He thinks he can… with enough support."

"Does that mean Vladimir is back, too?" Vasily tries not to look at Efrem, but he loses that fight. We all watch for his reaction.

Efrem clears his throat. "He tried to contact me a few times."

I stand, planting my fists on my desk. "You never mentioned that to me, Efrem."

"He's my father, okay? I had to pick up. That doesn't mean I do everything he says."

"He called for a reason."

"Yeah, he called for a reason: he wanted me to defect," Efrem admits. Anatoly and Vasily lean away from the man as though he's contagious. He scowls at both of them. "I'm still fucking here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," I agree. "The question is: why don't you seem happy about it?"

Efrem pales. "It's not a question of being happy. I just… I don't fucking get it," he snaps.

"Get what?"

"This who's-the-pakhan business. Why the fuck does it matter?" He throws up his hands. "It's the same damn family. Even if Slavik were to step back in, you'd get the title eventually."

Shura's hand strays towards his weapon. I caution him against it with the subtlest flick of my eyebrows.

We need answers right now, not bloodshed. Not yet, at least.

"Slavik fled and left us here to drown in his mess, Efrem. He took a personal jet, filled it with his men, his whore, and most of the Kuznetsov money, and he fucking ran." I grip the edges of my desk to keep my hands from curling around Efrem's throat. "Do you think this Bratva would have survived long without me? Slavik drained the coffers before he left. It took my leadership to salvage this Bratva."

"Yeah, well, Slavik says otherwise," he mutters.

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

Efrem clears his throat again. The color still hasn't returned to his cheeks. "I just listened to what my father said. I didn't agree, and I didn't defect."

"But you don't think defecting would be that big a deal."

The mudak has the balls to look me in the eye. "His men would be yours eventually."

"They already are. Most of them, at least."

Efrem swallows. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you have a choice to make, Efrem. If you choose to accept my leadership, it means rejecting Slavik. It means that, one day, you might come face to face with your own father on opposite sides of the war."

Panic blooms across his neck and under the color of his shirt like burning red scabs. "I know where my loyalties lie."

"Problem is, brother, I don't."

Efrem leaps out of his chair as though it's just electrocuted him. "You're accusing me."

"Prove yourself. What did Vladimir tell you?"

"Nothing," he answers without hesitation. "Only that the true pakhan was back."

"And how did you respond?"

His chest rises and falls indignantly. "I hung up on him."

I sigh. "I think you're telling me what you know I want to hear."

Sweat has beaded across Efrem's forehead and is dripping down his neck. Fear in liquid form. His eyes dart from Vasily to Anatoly like he's looking for someone to throw on the sword instead.

"I'm not lying!" he shrieks, his hand jerking towards the waistband of his pants.

I act without hesitation. I pull my gun out and send a bullet straight at Efrem's head. He's dead before he even hits the ground.

"Fuck." Shura has his gun out, too, and is staring down at the body spilling blood across the Persian rug at his feet. "That's gonna stain."

Anatoly is slack-jawed as he watches the life drain from Efrem. "Boss, are you sure he was?—?"

"It's time everyone got the message," I bark. "Fuck with my family and you die."

Vasily stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I'm no defector. Call me what you want, but I'm no traitor."

Anatoly nods his agreement. "The same goes for me. I have no loyalty to Slavik. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one Kuznetsov pakhan ."

I look both men in the eye. Their faces are resolute. "If that turns out not to be the case?—"

"Expect a bullet to the forehead." Vasily spits at Efrem's corpse. "We got the memo."

"Now, you can make sure the message carries. If there are defectors in our ranks, I want them to know exactly what they're in for. Slavik is nothing compared to the hell I will unleash on them." I step over Efrem. "Take care of this bastard before he starts to stink."

Only Shura follows me out of the office. I chase the need for a cigarette all the way to the patio that looks over the pool.

"You think you got your message across?" he asks once we're alone.

"I thought Slavik leaving would've been enough." I sigh and stroke my chin. "If Efrem could be swayed, what hope do I have that the others won't be?"

"Don't underestimate your hold on the men."

I turn to him, eyes flashing. "Don't assume everyone has your standards of loyalty."

"Are you feeling sorry for yourself, ‘Drey?" he asks with a cheeky smirk. "That's not like you."

"It's not myself I feel sorry for. It's the people I've involved in this mess."

He knows precisely which "people" I'm talking about. "Natalia's a grown woman. And she chose you."

Yeah. But how much longer until she regrets that decision?