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When Josh didn’t speak right away, I was in front of him a second later, my fingers digging into his cheeks and chin. “We know you were there, trying to score drugs—which we can ignore that you were in our territory but buying from a scumbag who we’vemade perfectly clear is not allowed to sell here. We just want to know what happened in the warehouse.” I kept my voice level, easy. No need to scare the prey before it gave us predators what we wanted. He’dseehow dangerous we were soon enough.

“There were four men,” Josh began, his voice shaking. “Three of them were speaking Russian and looking through crates. They started pulling the shipment out.”

We gave him a few seconds to get his bearings before telling the piss-stain to hurry the fuck up.

“I heard the gunshots first and saw two of them drop like freakin’ flies. Then a man came out of the shadows. He was dressed all in black with a hood covering his head. I couldn’t see his face clearly.”

“And then?” Dmitry snapped, his patience thin.

“H-He shot the last guy point-blank right in the head.”

“Did he see you?” I asked, my voice void of emotion, although inside I was a volcano about to erupt.

Josh shook his head. “I stayed hidden. But I knew I was going to tell you right away.”

“But you didn’t,” Dmitry said and cleaned beneath his fingernail with the tip of the hunting knife he still held.

Josh’s eyes were wide as hell as he stared at my brother. “When he left, I panicked and tried to move out of the shadows. My foot caught a box, and he turned around. The overhead light showed me his face.” He swallowed and looked between us.

The fucker knew who he saw.

“I’d seen him before… at one of the underground fights.”

I ground my teeth, and Dmitry made a feral sound from deep within his chest. Dmitry handled the fights. Hell, he just got out of prison not that long ago for shit that went down at one of the fights. Five fucking years, my brother was locked away. So the fact that one fighter was going behind our backs and killing off our men meant we had a traitor close to us.

“Who was it?” Dmitry asked between clenched teeth.

Josh shook his head again. “I-I was high when I saw him fight. I don’t remember what they called him, but I remembered his face… and all those tattoos, and his dark hair and blue eyes.”

We knew… we fucking knew exactly who he was talking about.

The only motherfucker decked outin tattoos with jet black hair and ice blue eyes was the leader of the West Coast Cosa Nostra.

Fucking Gio.

Before we could pry more information out of the asshole, he started stammering again.

“But… but I remember something from the warehouse.” Josh looked hopeful, like what he was about to tell us was going to save his fucking life. It wouldn’t.

“The last man to die mentioned something about The Stygian Syndicate. I couldn’t hear anything else from him. But the man who killed him spoke Italian in response.”

I narrowed my eyes at Josh. “Are you sure about that? You learn some Rosetta Stone shit or something?”

Josh licked his lips and winced as his tongue came into contact with the split skin. “When I was younger, I had a neighbor who was Italian. I recognized the language enough to tell the killer spoke Italian.”

It clicked like the perfect fucking puzzle piece sliding into place. And as I stared at my brother, Dmitry’s eyes narrowed, he curled his lip, and he lowered his head as he stared at the ground.

There was only one fighter who spoke Italian.

One fighter who had dark hair and blue eyes and was covered in tattoos.

One fighter who went by a Russian name, D’yavol, so no one would suspect he wasn’t one of us.

My motherfucking brother-in-law.

Gio.

My fists were clenched, my nails digging into my palms. “You sure about all that, Josh?”

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