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I’ve gone through every possible scenario. But none of them makes sense. Uncle Lars didsomebusiness with the Bratva, but not with anyone as high up as Kir. Even if he had, how would Kir have gotten to Norway so fast? I mean, the house was still on fucking fire when I saw him.
He wasn’t there out of concern for either business or people.
He was there towatch.
And the questionwhyhas been gnawing at me for years.
Was he there during the massacre itself? Did he stand by while my family was slaughtered? Worse… Did he orchestrate it?
Participatein it?
The thought twists like a knife in my gut. It has for years, but there’s an extra edge to it now.
I pull out my phone, my fingers shaking as I dial a number I haven’t used in years.
The extra edge isFreya, and the fact that I care more than I should for the woman who’s essentially Kir’s adoptive daughter.
And that’s the reason I’m calling Oren.
When he picks up, I don’t waste any time. I’ve worked with him before, and I know he’s the best. I also know he works quickly and efficiently and doesn’t need any fluff. Just the facts.
It’s me,” I say, my voice low. “I need information on Kir Nikolayev, specifically anything that ties him to the Lindqvists.”
Oren clears his throat. “Good to hear from you, Mal,” he grunts. “It’s been a while.”
“That it has,” I growl back. “When can you get this to me?”
He’s silent for a second.
“Oren—”
“What happened to your family… It was over twenty years ago, Mal.”
“And,” I hiss quietly.
“And we’ve known each other for, what, going on six years or so?”
“That’s about right. Does this sermon have a conclusion approaching any time soon, Oren?”
“Whynow,” he growls. “You could’ve asked me this six years ago.”
“Why the fuck does it matter?”
“Because I’m not a robot, Mal,” he mutters back. “And one of the reasons I’m still doing this job, even now that I’ve got a family to worry about, is that thewhymatters. Even if it doesn’t matter to you, it sure as fuck does to me. So—do I need to ask again?”
I don’t immediately answer. Oren sighs.
“Look, no disrespect, Mal, but without a why, I can’t do this?—”
“A girl,” I finally growl quietly. “I’m involved with a girl connected to Kir, who was maybe involved with the Lindqvists, and I need to know how all of that?—”
“You’re with Freya Holm.”
I stiffen instantly, words failing me.
Oren just chuckles quietly.
“I’m very good at what I do, Mal. I don’t generally like to indulge in hubris, but I might be thebestat what I do.”
