Page 38 of Alik

Have the Irish made plans to kill her?

No. I’ve been keeping tabs since last night. There’s nothing yet.

Still, I find discomfort settling in my legs. I want to shift them, but I stay still. She’s going to die. I already know that, and I accept it. Following her in the meantime hurts nothing and no one. Feeding the curiosity tugging at my brain interferes in no way with the plan. I told myself this when I tracked her by her cellphone, and I told myself this when I rented the hotel room next to hers. It’s curiosity. It’s fine. I don’t get curious often. I can indulge.

“In what way?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Any day now, the Irish will kill the girl, and the DEA will be off our backs. And hopefully, when that day comes, we can tell the Italians to kiss our asses.” He pats the new supply with a smile, but it soon falls. “But those, unfortunately, aren’t the last of our worries.”

I know before he can say the words.

Vitaly.

It’s true. He’s been released.

“The truth is, Alik, you never broke my trust. I trust you more than I trust anyone. And that’s why I’m going to give you intel you must not tell a soul. Understood?”

I nod.

He sighs, looking a decade older as his face falls like he’s just received news of a death in the family. Ironically, nothing would make him happier.

“I’m afraid my nephew has been released from prison.”

I don’t respond, but I can see him studying me. He wants to know if I already know.

“I haven’t been in touch with him,” Nikita goes on. “I thought if he wanted to reach out, he would. But…” He shrugs. “You know Vitaly. Family isn’t as important to him as it is to us.”

Us.

The Bratva.

It’s laughable, but it speaks to Vitaly’s disgusting lack of loyalty because it’s true.

But, of course, Nikita is lying. He would kill his nephew the second he got the chance, and I’d be shocked if most people didn’t know it.

“He hasn’t reached out to you, has he?” Nikita asks.

My eyes narrow at the question. It could be taken as disrespectful, but Nikita must not care because relief softens his features at my response.

“I didn’t think so, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Sir, if you’re worried about him coming back, don’t be. The Vitaly I know is too selfish to remember our existence.”

“But is he too selfish to remember the throne his father promised him?” Nikita looks at me seriously, his legs spread wide, hands gripping the arms of the chair. I can see the intent behind his eyes, and finally, I know what he wants from me.

Assurance of my loyalty.

Vitaly’s father was in line to be Pakhan, and his death coupled with Vitaly’s absence made Nikita the heir. If Vitaly returns, he could try to take Nikita’s place. Half the Bratva will be hoping for this scenario, worn down by Nikita’s brutality, and the other half wanted Vitaly executed eight years ago.

Nikita wants to know which camp I fall into.

On the one hand, I’ve pledged my loyalty to the Bratva Vitaly turned his back on long ago. On the other, he was once my closest friend. The only person in the world I called family.

Would my loyalty shift if Vitaly came back?

No. But it’s a non-issue. Because like I said, the Vitaly I knew is too selfish to care about his people. He left us once, throne and all. He isn’t coming back.

“It’s your throne now, sir.”

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