Page 66 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

I must prove my algorithm right. The scenario it gave me was chilling to the very bone, but if I am to use any of its findings against my father—and therefore against Bowman and Smith, as well—I need more concrete evidence. Based on the guys’ own intel regarding my father and Shelby, I decide that I have to take a step forward and put my friendship with Shelby to the test.

Despite my earlier warning, she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, that much is clear. Dad is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and while I hate myself for thinking so, Shelby is better off seeing for herself who he truly is.

“It’s been a while,” she says as we sit down for coffee at one of our usual cafes uptown. “You look good, Lyric. You’re glowing.”

“Pretty sure that’s just sweat,” I say, laughing lightly.

“No, I mean it. You look wonderful,” Shelby says. “Though I’m not sure what’s changed.” She pauses, her tone taking a temperature dive. “I heard about the argument you had with your father about the Sokolov’s.”

“You heard?”

“Yeah, he tells me pretty much everything. I’ve become his confidante lately.”

She says it with a hint of pride, and I need to take a deep breath before I’m about to gently rain on her parade. I give her a soft smile.

“He trusts you then.”

“He does,” she replies with a confident nod. “I mean, it’s hard to trust anybody in politics these days, so I’m glad he feels like he can trust me.”

I nod slowly. “Look, Shelby, my father’s got it all wrong regarding the Sokolov’s.”

“Does he though?” She narrows her eyes, carefully analyzing my expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Well obviously, I never told him anything about your involvement with them, Lyric, but even so, he can tell that it’s not the right path for you, especially under these complicated circumstances.”

“Are you talking about how the FBI are constantly harassing them for no good reason?” I shouldn’t get so defensive, but I can’t help myself. “Let’s face it, Shelby, they’re just using them as scapegoats at this point. They have nothing on them.”

“Yet.”

I give her a confused frown. “Yet?”

“Your father says it’s only a matter of time before the Feds start digging up the right corpses. And when they do, you don’t want to be anywhere near them, Lyric.”

These are delicate waters I’m treading. One wrong move, and I could end up turning Shelby against me. She has already gotten way too close for comfort where my father is concerned. The last thing I want to do is push her all the way into his arms.

I look at her, listening intently as she voices her feelings regarding my relationship with the Sokolov’s, though part of me wishes I could just smack the sense back into her head.

“I love you like a sister,” she says, “and you know that. I’m all for you finding true love, no matter how weird or taboo it may seem to the rest of the world, because I believe in your ability to discern right from wrong. Which is why I’m here, talking to you about all this. Your dad has no clue how deep your dealings with the Sokolov’s goes, and I would never tell him. But Lyric, it’s time to get serious. The Chicago Bratva is going down, sooner or later. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I offer another mellow nod, just so she’ll feel heard. “Thank you, Shelby. It means the world to me that you care so much about me. I care about you, too, and don’t you ever doubt it for a second. Which is why I need you to listen to what I have to say as well, okay? Can you do that? Can I talk straight like you just did?”

“Of course,” she smiles softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Brace yourself, Shelby. Because you might end up hating me by the time I’m done with you, I think to myself.

“So, here’s the thing. I know my father better than most people. Better than you, believe it or not,” I say.

“I believe it.”

“I’ve seen his rise up the political totem pole. I’ve seen how far he’s willing to go, how dirty he’s willing to get in order to win,” I continue, watching as Shelby’s expression gradually shifts from openness to wariness. “Matthew Phelps preaches fairness and righteousness, but he doesn’t practice it. You have no idea the kind of bribes he paid to even get on the city council ballot. The backdoor deals he made along the way. The favors he owes to some pretty shady people, that I know of. I can’t imagine what I don’t know about. I can give you names, dates, places, just so you understand that I’m not making any of this up.”

“I have no reason to distrust you.”

“I know he can be charming and he can really knock your socks off. And it’s easy to believe him, because his record appears spotless from the outside,” I continue. “I completely understand. But do you remember all those times that I aired my grievances with you about his political exploits?”

“I do. I just—”

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