5. Andrey

5

ANDREY

"Boss?"

I jolt away from the wall as if there's any way I can hide from Leonty that I've been standing outside Natalia's room like a lovesick teenager.

"What is it?"

"Mino has just arrived." When I show no sign of recognizing who the hell that is, Leonty hurries to explain. "He's the physical therapist that you had me hire to help Misha with his shoulder."

"Right." I nod, embarrassingly grateful for the excuse to knock on the door. "I'll let him know."

Natalia, Misha, and Remi have spent the entire day locked away in her room. Even their meals are being brought up to them, Remi's included.

At first, I was just grateful Natalia was content to stay in the main house instead of the pool house. Now, proximity isn't enough. I want to see her.

With an abrupt knock, I let myself in before anyone can reply. Natalia, Misha, and Mila are sprawled across the bed, eating from the same charcuterie board.

"Hey there, big guy," Mila greets in a teasing lilt. "Come to join the party?"

Based on the way Misha doesn't look up and Natalia frowns, I'm not sure I'm invited.

"Misha, Mino is here for your physical therapy appointment."

Remi perks up from where he's napping on the floor when Misha climbs off the bed gingerly. He gives the dog a gentle pat and slinks out of the room without acknowledging me.

Mila hesitates for only a second before she too jumps up, grabbing the tray of food as she goes. "I just remembered I have some… laundry to do."

"Since when?" Natalia hisses.

Mila offers her only a meek wave before disappearing through the door. Remi takes her place, nuzzling his head in Natalia's lap.

She avoids my eyes as I round the bed and sit down at the edge of it, far from her. "How are you feeling today?"

"Misha's acting like everything is fine, but I know it's not."

"Why do you say that?"

"Intuition."

"He had a big shock yesterday," I say, reminding myself once again that I need to give her a calm and nurturing environment. "Just give it time."

She shakes her head. "He's angry at me. He's just not admitting it."

"Leave the kid alone, Natalia?—"

"He's in pain, Andrey!" she snaps. "Maybe you can ignore it, but I can't."

I grimace. We're off to a great fucking start.

"Maybe I should speak to him."

She eyes me suspiciously. "No offense, but you're not exactly great with emotions. Or other humans."

I fall back, biting down every snap and retort that's circulating in my head. It's amazing how, even now, she can push all my buttons.

"Where's Katya?"

She picks at the comforter, her lip curling. "Avoiding me, obviously."

"Don't be mad at her. She did the right thing by telling me where you were."

"She should have done what I asked her to do without involving you."

"So you could leave? Again?"

Remi's looking up at her with those bright, brown eyes of his. Almost as though he knows what we're discussing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. You'll break my heart." Sighing, she drags her eyes back up to mine. Any trace of affection she had for Remi is gone when she looks at me. "It was the only way, Andrey. The only way."

"To do what, exactly?"

She throws a hand up. "To protect myself and my children. And yes, I understand why Misha would be upset by that—but I didn't leave him behind because I wanted to. I had to."

"And what about me?"

She stops short. "Huh?"

"You were leaving me behind, too. Did you ever stop to think about that?" It's hard to keep the note of bitterness from my voice.

She presses her lips together. "I won't apologize for trying to give our babies a better life. A safer life."

"I'm not asking you to. I can see why you thought you had to leave. It's not like I made you feel very safe in the end, did I?"

Her mouth opens and closes, uncertain of whether I'm being sincere or leading her into a trap. Even that uncertainty proves how badly I've failed her.

I rise to my feet. "I have to step out for a bit. If you need anything, let Leonty know. He'll be stationed outside your door at all times."

Her eyes go wide. "That's not necessary?—"

"It's not negotiable, either."

"Andrey—"

The argument freezes on her tongue when I bend down and kiss her forehead. "If you need me, call me. I will answer."

"So, the old pakhan is really back?" Luca asks, sliding a hand over the lapels of his double-breasted suit.

"With a vengeance," I confirm.

The club we're in, Maria, is teeming with trendy young people, their skin dappled with sweat, smoke rising up in curls from the tips of their thin French cigarettes. Electronic music pulses dully through the walls, like the place itself has a heartbeat. The frantic energy infects all of us, myself included.

Luca is nodding along with the bass while Cevdet watches me with an excited glint in his eyes. Bujar alone looks apprehensive.

I have a feeling I know why. He's the most vulnerable link in our chain. He doesn't have the manpower to protect his business interests the way the rest of us do.

"Don't worry," I assure them. "I plan on taking out the threat soon enough."

"I hope so," Luca warns. "The longer this takes, the more money we'll lose."

Cevdet rolls his eyes. "Really, Luca, talking about money at a time like this? It's so crass . This is an offense against our young pakhan and it cannot stand."

"Two things can be equally true and equally important at the same time," Luca quips with a wave of his hand.

It's one of the things I appreciate most about Luca: the man is straightforward.

"We need to close ranks," Cevdet booms, reaching for another cigar. "Strangle those pesky birds before they take flight."

"Who exactly is this new enemy we're facing?" Luca asks.

"No one you've heard of. Just a small-time cartel that started to gain some traction around the time I took over as pakhan ," I answer. "They call themselves The Halcones."

Luca wrinkles his nose. "And they're dangerous?"

"They cost me dearly once."

All three men are watching me carefully, waiting for me to volunteer more. But I'm not here to dredge up past losses.

"My father is more capable than I imagined," I say. "He can be very persuasive when he wants to be."

"Are you unsure of your Bratva's loyalty?" Bujar asks.

My jaw clenches. "Of my inner circle—not at all. But there are a lot of men under my command, and many of them swore their allegiance to my father first."

The mood of our meeting wavers beneath the pulse of the strobe lights. Cevdet leans forward. "If we're to win, we need to act fast."

"As we speak, there's a man being held in the basement of this club," I inform them. "Shura hasn't managed to get much information out of him. But I'm going to see if I'll have better luck."

Bujar keeps his eyes fastened on me. "You think he could be useful?"

"He's our only lead," I say, rising to my feet. "I intend to make him useful. Whether he likes it or not."

Cevdet's lips curl into a sinister smile. "Let us know how it goes."

"You three just sit back. Enjoy my booze and my cigars. I'll return soon enough."

They raise their glasses as I walk out of the VIP room through a hidden panel door recessed into the wall. The moment I step into the narrow corridor, motion sensor lights flicker to life, lighting the spiral path down towards the basement of Maria.

The temperature drops as I descend. My shoes echo off the rough-hewn concrete floors.

Shura is leaning against a wall to the side, a toothpick dangling between his teeth. The man across from him is suspended from the ceiling by his arms. Blood coats his bare chest and sweat sticks his gray briefs to his legs. If the bruising on his torso is anything to go by, his insides are as ugly and beaten as the rest of him.

"Who do we have here?"

"This is Diego," Shura explains.

The man, balancing precariously on his tiptoes, flops as hard as he can. It's pitiful. "P-please. Let me go." Blood trickles from a split in his lower lip. Now that his head is raised, I can see his black eyes and the blood crusted along his chin.

"You haven't told us anything interesting, Diego," I tut. "What makes you think you deserve to be let go?"

"Please!" he begs. "I'm innocent."

"You snuck into my club, assaulted one of my waitresses, and tried to push an inferior product on my premises." I unleash a calm, eerie smile on him. "That doesn't sound like ‘innocence' to me."

"Please," he tries again. "I'll do anything."

I cock my neck to the side. "‘Anything'?"

"Yes, just… let me go."

"I might let you go, Diego— if you give me something useful. If your intel proves accurate, then you will earn back your freedom."

"I don't know anything!" Diego wails. "They sent us here to push the product. Those were the orders, so that's what I did."

Shura looks incredulous but he doesn't question me. Instead, he walks to my side and whispers, "Don't you think I tried this already? He's a puppet. No better than Misha was to Nikolai. He doesn't know shit."

Determined, I walk over to Diego. Fresh sweat carves a path through the dried blood smeared over his mouth. "Give me something, Diego. Your life depends on it."

His face crumples. "I was just… following orders. P-please…"

"Whose orders?"

"The man I was with—Edgar Vargas—he was the one telling me what to do."

"Who is he?"

His eyes flicker to Shura. Then back to me. "He's a cousin of one of the Halcones. That's all I know. I was told to follow his orders."

Judging by the way he's trembling, Diego is ready to sing like a canary if it means he gets to live. Problem is, he doesn't know the song I need to hear. I guess I'll have to make do with a few measly notes.

"If tonight had been successful, where would you have gone?" I press. "There must have been a meeting point."

He squints, blinking furiously as a bead of sweat drips right into his eye. "We were staying at a motel in the middle of the city. Last Resort Inn."

Slapping my hand against his bloody face, I nod in approval. "You just earned yourself a few extra hours, Diego. Spend them wisely."