Page 80 of Bratva Knight

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nikolai Volkov

Theroomwasquiet.So quiet, you could hear a pin drop. We all sat in Aleksandr’s office the following morning, a tense and awkward air surrounding us, just like there was last night. It wasn’t exactly how we all planned to spend our mother’s birthday. Lukyan wasn’t talking to me. Illayana wasn’t talking to me. Or Aleksandr. We huddled around the TV watching all of our mother’s favorite movies and eating her favourite snacks. It was our way of paying homage to the amazing woman who birthed us and raised us. Our way of celebrating her life. Except, unlike in previous years, where the night had consisted of laughter, bonding and food fights, this year was nothing but angry glares and snide remarks.

Even thePraguebirthday cake Aleksandr and I had specially made for the night didn’t relieve any of the tension. And my siblingslovedchocolate cake.

Tatiana had texted me throughout the night, checking up on me and making sure I was okay. Cracking jokes to try and distract me from the crushing pain of this day. I appreciated it more than I could ever put into words.

Usually, she would be there with us. But she felt like, with everything going on, that it would be best to keep her distance. At least until Illayana had calmed down.

She’d texted her too, but my sister was too busy being the little brat she was to reply. The fact that it was the next day and she’d had the entire night to calm down hadn’t helped whatsoever. If anything, all that time had just made her angrier.

Aleksandr had just finished relaying the news Mikhail brought to us to Illayana and Lukyan. They’d sat quietly and listened to every word, which was an indication on its own of the seriousness of the situation. Theyneversat still. It was extremely concerning. They were seated next to each other on the couch against the far wall, faces grim. Aleksandr was behind his desk and I was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of it. He was trying not to look as anxious as I knew he felt. I learnt a long time ago to pick up on the subtle cues of my brother’s body language: the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw, the unease in his pale blue eyes. It all showed me what he was trying desperately to hide. He wanted to appear unfazed by the whole thing, so he didn’t worry Illayana and Lukyan.

Mikhail, much to his dismay, was still there. He tried to leave after telling us about Talon but Aleksandr had convinced him to stay, reminding him that despite how he might feel about us right now, Dimitri was his oldest friend. We needed his help if we were ever going to get him back.

He still held a lot of blame and resentment towards us because of what happened to his son. He wasn’t interested in talking to any of us unless absolutely necessary, and had even insisted on staying in the same room Dayton had been in.

The fact that it was right next to Aleksandr’s made it a little awkward this morning when they ran into each other.

“Okay,” Lukyan blew out, leaning back. “So it’s like a Squid Game kinda deal?”

Aleksandr frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a TV show.” Illayana kept her eyes locked on the ground, arms braced on her thighs, hands clasped together. “A bunch of people do deathly challenges for money while others watch and bet on who wins.”

“Then yes, I guess it’s like that.”

“Except the people in the Til Death Games haven’t signed up for it,” Mikhail added.

“What’s the plan?” There was a sense of desperation and urgency in Lukyan’s voice that I’d never heard before. “If this island of his can’t be found, then how the hell are we meant to rescue Father?”

“I have an idea for that, actually.” I turned to Mikhail. “Where does Talon get his staff?”

“His staff?” he frowned.

“Yes. He has an entire island to run, catering to the rich and wealthy. He would need workers to maintain it. Waitstaff, chefs, gardeners, maids, security guards. Do you know where he gets them from?”

“No. But I could find out.”

Lukyan cocked his head. “You want to go undercover?”

“I think it’s the quickest and most efficient way for us to find the island. One of us poses as a worker and slips in behind the scenes. We gather as much intel as we can. Details of the layout, how many people he has, their security measures and where they keep the prisoners so that when we infiltrate, we won’t be running around blind.”

“You really think that will work?” Illayana lifted her gaze from the floor. Her eyes were full of anger (whether that was at me or the situation, I wasn’t sure). “Considering the precautions this Talon guy already has in place, you really think he wouldn’t thoroughly vet anyone he plans to employ? I’m sure he’d find it suspicious when he sees one of Dimitri’s children has applied to work for him.”

I’d already thought about that. “We use an alias with an extensive background that would fool even the most paranoid person in the world. All he’ll see is a normal person looking for a job.”

“That still leaves the issue offindingthe island,” Mikhail pressed. “Talon will most definitely have everyone—including his workersandtheir belongings—scanned for tracking and listening devices. It will be an instant bullet to the brain if he finds one.”

“Then we won’t have one,” I shrugged. “There would have to be a command centre of some kind there. We could use that to find out the latitude and longitude of the island. Then all we’d need to do is relay those coordinates.”

Aleksandr nodded. “I like it. How long will it take for you to create this alias?”

“I already have one. I’ve been building it for years.” I picked up my iPad from the small table next to me and, after a few swipes, had the information for a Damien Cszar on the screen. I handed it to Aleksandr. He ran his eyes over the screen and exhaled a grunt of approval. He offered it to Mikhail, standing behind him.

“Looks good,” Mikhail said, studying it closely. “Can you add in a criminal history too? Nothing too crazy. Maybe an assault and battery charge, or something like that? I have a feeling Talon would lean more towards the types who are willing to break a rule or two.”

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