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I glanced at Dve, who smirked, still leaning against the grimy wall. The basement was dimly lit, covered in cobwebs, and reeked of cat shit.
“You have a reputation, Volk — a man of your word,” he wheezed between coughs. “If you have nothing to offer, then kill me now and make it quick for the both of us.”
“You question my reputation?” I scoffed, looking down at him. “You should be grateful I haven’t killed you already for betraying me, Romaniev.”
Alexsei Romaniev, Vlad’s right-hand man. I found him hurrying through Moscow with a backpack, glancing over his shoulder like a paranoid tourist. I followed him for blocks, watching him try to blend in. But he couldn’t hide from me. I knew his face way too well.
He made a break for a side street, heading for a taxi. I quickened my pace and caught up just as he was about to get in.
“Leaving so soon, Romaniev?”
He turned, eyes widening in surprise. “Volk? What the fuck do you want?”
“I came to say goodbye, of course.”
He didn’t resist when I approached or when Dve pulled up seconds later. He accepted his fate, walking to the car without a word. Almost too easy, but I wasn’t dropping my guard.
“You owe me, Volk. Don’t forget I saved your fucking life,” he said sternly.
Alexsei and I go way back. He joined the Silas a few months after me. We met as kids and hit it off quickly, becoming good friends. We grew up, fought, ate, and laughed together. He was like a brother to me. So, when Alexsei betrayed Igor, it hit hard. It felt personal, like he’d betrayed me too. It was a gut punch. I couldn’t believe he’d do that after everything we’d been through.
Despite everything, I had to admit he was right. I owe Alexsei big time. He saved my life a couple of years ago when we were on a mission in the States.
We were both twenty-three then. The Camorras had lit up the car I was in, trapping me inside. The car was a black sedan, and it caught fire after a petrol bomb hit it. Flames spread quickly, and I was struggling to get out before it exploded. Alexsei spotted me from a distance and rushed toward the burning car, risking his own life. He managed to pull me out just in time, and we escaped the explosion by a hair’s breadth.
He saved my life, and I owe him. And we both knew it.
Francesco Camorra was the don of the Italian mafia across the east and west coasts of the States. His father, Andrea Camorra, died a couple of weeks ago, poisoned by one of his mistresses. Pretty fucked up. I heard Vlad tried to do business with Francesco a few months back, but Francesco turned him down. Andrea and Igor had been working together for years, and even Vlad couldn’t break that bond. It was stupid to think he could come between them.
Alexsei yawned. “Come on, man. You know I don’t work for Vlad anymore.”
“You know me better than that, Alexsei,” I said, hiding my anger with a smirk. “I always know everything. Why do you think you’re here, huh?”
He paused, looking at me intensely. “You wanna know why Helena left for the States, right?” His tone grew colder. “Promise to let me go and I’ll tell you everything.”
I snorted and threw another punch, hitting his nose.
He winced but quickly smirked again. “Fuck, Volk,” he said, moving his nose from side to side. “You’re no fun at all.”
“Start talking,” I said sternly.
“Untie me first,” he leaned forward, spitting blood onto the floor. “These ropes are killing me. I’m into some kinky stuff, but with the two of you here, it feels like a bad porno. And for the record, I’m not into dicks. No offense,” he added with a sly grin.
I gestured with my head for Dve to cut his ropes; Alexsei’s nagging was giving me a headache. Dve stepped forward, extracting a knife hidden in his blazer pocket to slice through the bindings. As soon as he was free, Alexsei started rubbing his wrists and muttering curses under his breath. But then he looked down at his sleeve ends, his eyes widening.
“What the fuck, man?” he exclaimed, glaring at Dve. “These are Prada! You just cut my Prada sleeves!”
Dve shook his head in disbelief.
“You were saying?” I snarled.
Alexsei shot a glare at Dve but began speaking. “Right, the reason why Helena left for the States,” he said, cracking his neck and running a hand through his hair. “That’s quite fucked up, actually. Brace yourself.”
I leaned in closer, waiting for him to continue.
“I guess you heard about what Vlad and Victoria did behind Igor’s back. Helena stole the baby and raised her, claiming the girl was hers. Vlad visited them from time to time.” He shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable, and reached for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
Taking one out, he placed it between his lips and offered the packet to us, silently asking if we wanted one. I shook my head, and Dve waved his hand to decline. Alexsei shrugged and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before continuing.
