Chapter 175 175

Chapter 175 175
“You’re lying,” I murmur. “He’s lying, Yuri. Don’t listen to him, don’t —”

“He’s not,” Yuri cuts in. “I verified it myself. Carmine’s not my father. Which means that Matvey isn’t…” He clenches his teeth, like it’s painful to say it. Like it’s painful to even think it. “We were never really family, April. Not me and you, and not… me and him. Never.”

“You’re wrong.”

He frowns. “What?”

“You’re wrong,” I repeat. I don’t care how badly my voice is shaking—I will say it as many times as he needs to hear it. Until my last goddamn breath. “You may not be related, but you’re still family. All this time, you’ve been family. You think that just goes away? You think it doesn’t matter?”

For a second, he hesitates.

But that’s all it is—a second.

“It doesn’t,” he rasps. “Not to him. Because I’m not blood.”

My heart breaks for him. For both of them, two brothers on opposite sides of a war. “Have you tried asking him that?”

“I don’t need to. He’s made it clear over and over.”

“He’s changed,” I whisper. “He isn’t the same person he was.”

“He’s changed for you,” he replies, voice hoarse. “He will never change for me.”

He puts the gun away, turns on his heel, and disappears in the tunnel.

“Too bad you couldn’t talk him out of it,” Carmine remarks as soon as he’s gone. “I guess that son of mine did too much damage. All that talk of ‘blood.’ Obsessive, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Only because of you.”

“Maybe. But now, I have his blood. And once I’m done with him, I’ll make sure to wipe away every trace.”

My heart drops. “You’d hurt our daughter?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. She won’t feel a thing.” He gives me a cruel, sinister smile, all shark teeth and broken promises. “And neither will you.”

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54

MATVEY

“You knew.”

Grisha doesn’t reply right away, just takes a long drag out of his cigarette. “I suspected.”

“How long?”

“Since April was taken from the motel.” The smoke rises, curling into spirals. “How did he know where to find her? How did he know she was missing at all?”

I clench my fists. Great. So everyone realized something didn’t add up— everyone but me. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t have any proof. Besides…” His usual poker face morphs into something rare: a smile. “Would you have listened?”

It’s the saddest smile I’ve ever seen.

Goddammit. He’s right. I wouldn’t have listened at all. One word from Yuri, one denial, and I would’ve considered the matter closed. Worse, I might’ve turned my fangs against the one accusing my brother in the first place.

My brother.

If only we were that.

A memory bubbles up: Yuri and I, storming out of Ipatiy’s club. No—me storming out, Yuri rushing to catch up at my heels. He was warning me about something, but I didn’t want to hear it. That I couldn’t alienate the vory just because they weren’t blood. That it was wrong of me to treat them as “glorified attack dogs,” as I’d so elegantly put it.

He told me, “Even the most loyal dog will bite if backed into a corner.”

What did I say in return?

Try as I might, I just can’t remember.

“Who’s coming?” I ask Grisha instead, determined to put my—Yuri—out of my mind.

“Vlad’s men,” he replies. “Our vory are gathering at the HQ right now. They want to discuss the implications of moving against Carmine before they lend their support.”

“Fucking cowards,” I spit. “They’re Bratva, not a bunch of shareholders. Why the hell can’t they remember that?”

“My guess is they have no one to keep them in line now,” Grisha remarks. “Not after…”

Ivan.

“I see.”

It’s not a good feeling, when your mistakes catch up to you. It’s even worse when they do it all at once, one after the other. An avalanche of wrong choices.

If I’m not careful, they will be the dirt on my grave.

“Go to them,” I tell Grisha. “Remind them what it means to be Bratva. By any means necessary.”

“Do I have the authority to do that?” he asks.

“You do now, brigadir.”

I shake his hand and seal the deal. It’s firm, refreshingly real. Grisha’s face is lacking any of the joy that usually comes with a promotion, showing instead the grim expression of a soldier on the battlefield.

Good. I need men who understand duty around me.

Duty… and loyalty.

“Be careful,” I tell him.

He nods. “You, too, pakhan.”

I watch him go, the car speeding off into New York traffic. Any time now, Vlad should be here with half my army. The irony doesn’t escape me: I spent so long suspecting the wrong man, and now, here I am, waiting for him to bring the cavalry.

Some leader I turned out to be.

I spy a long line of black cars. One by one, they crowd the alley next to the warehouse and start spitting out men in suits. Vlad’s men.

Then another car speeds into the alley, nearly crashing into the last one. “What’s the meaning of this?!”

Petra.

I steel myself. With everything that’s happened in the past few hours, there was one question I was forced to table for later. Because I didn’t have the bandwidth. Because there were other priorities.

Is Petra working against me, too?

“Petya!” Vlad bellows. “I told you to go home.”

But she ignores him. Instead, she makes a beeline for me, elbowing her father’s men left and right to get there. “Tell me it’s not true,” she demands. “Say it.”

I turn to Vlad. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“She was with me when you called.”

“And you let her listen?”

“How was I supposed to know you were going to drop a bomb like that?!” he scoffs. “I tried to keep her away, but you know women. Long legs, even longer ears.”

“Quit talking like I’m not here!” she cries out. “Especially you, Matvey. You’ve never done that to me before. Don’t you dare start now.”

I clench my jaw. Petra’s face is a mask of heartbreak, hurt and confusion swirling together in the pools of her eyes.

But is that all it is? A mask?

Just then, my phone rings.

“Ignore it,” she growls. “Look at me, Matvey. Tell me I heard wrong. Tell me that Yuri didn’t…” She swallows a sob.

Fucking hell. If she’s acting, she’s doing a damn good job of it.

And if she’s not…

If she’s not, I can’t tell her what she wants to hear.