Page 68 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

“What the hell have you done, Kirill?” the man on the phone line snarled viciously. “How long did you think you could get away with playing me,brother?”

“Our father,” Ivan whispered through the comm line.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Andrei.” Kirill sounded shocked; panicked. He hadn’t known this was coming. We had taken everything Libby and Ivan acquired over the years on Kirill’s work and association. From his involvement in trafficking girls under the Chameleon Agency to his current profit skimming. Every nook and cranny had been swept out from under the rug for Andrei Tkachenko to see.

“Don’t lie to me,” Andrei roared. “This was your last chance, Kirill. I’m flying there to settle this. I gave you one last shot, and you ruined it. Again.”

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Kirill began. “I swear I had nothing—”

“Are you telling me it is all lies?” Andrei hissed. “Because I am holding some pretty damning evidence.”

“It is fake,” Kirill insisted. “Men who want to drive a wedge between us, brother. They know we are stronger together.”

Dima snorted derisively. I agreed with him. The honey buttered bullshit spewing from Kirill’s mouth was as much amusing as it was frustrating. There was no doubt in my mind the man would seek to worm his way out of his crimes with Andrei. Pin them on an unforeseen enemy. Play on his loyalty to him. His help in winning against his father.

It wouldn’t do him any good.

Not this time.

“You better hope so.” Andrei was cold, his tone dropping dangerously as he continued. “I’m flying down there. You better pray I don’t find any more evidence of foul play,brat.” The sarcastic edge to the Russian word for brother wasn’t missed. It seemed tension between the two had been riding high for a while it seemed.

“You won’t,” Kirill swore. “I promise you that.”

Then the line went dead.

“Well,” Dima’s brow shot up, “I expected something a bit more.”

“Don’t go anywhere just yet,” Mark told us. “He’s making an outgoing call.”

“To where?” Ivan questioned. A few more clacks of the keyboard later, and he had it.

“Seattle.”

There was ringing, and then, “You better be calling for a good reason.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up in awareness at the harsh, feminine voice on the other end. It sounded familiar. Too familiar, but I couldn’t place where I heard it before.

“We need to move up the timeline.” Kirill’s voice was shaky, unnerved. He was afraid of this woman, whoever she was. “Someone is working against me. Sending him information.”

“It isn’t my responsibility to clean up your messes, Marius,” the woman hissed. The way she tilted her words told me she had an accent she was attempting to hide. It was slight, and I couldn’t place it, but one was certainly there.

Where the fuck had I heard this voice before?

“My messes are your mess, Caesar,” he growled. “Remember that. If I lose my position here, we no longer have the foothold we need to the docks.”

Caesar? Marius?

“Fucking Roman general names, really?” Dima muttered beneath his breath. I shot him a look. He shrugged. “What? I paid attention in school.”

Ivan’s soft laugh filtered through the comms.

“Don’t threaten me,” the woman snarled. “If you hadn’t been so careless, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Just send one of the legionnaires.” Kirill sighed heavily. “It must look like an assassination. Otherwise, there will be too much digging when I ascend as leader.”

Ascend. What a pompous asshat.

“And what about your nephew?” the woman questioned. “Ivan? He is next in line to inherit.”

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