Page 27 of Bratva Baby

Galina begins to tidy the cushions on the sofa, so I take my coffee to the far window, where I look out at the garden where I found solace last night. Maybe I’ll make my way out there again today.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I stiffen. Another text from my father, no doubt.

Pulling it out, I see the dreaded name on the screen. Tension knots in my shoulders. I glance at Galina, who’s still preoccupied with her tasks. Quickly, I unlock the phone. The message glares at me:

What is taking so long? I need answers. Don’t forget our deal.

Chapter 12 - Grigor

I’m done waiting. My chair scrapes across the floor as I stand, clutching the battered scrap of paper Dmitri just handed me. It’s a clue, the first one we’ve had in weeks. Dmitri’s men intercepted it from a Rossi courier they cornered near the docks—a lucky break in our otherwise stagnant search. A single thread that might lead us to the coward who arranged Pavel’s murder.

My blood boils at the memory of Pavel’s body sprawled in that alley. My men and I have spent every waking hour searching for answers, but the Rossis know how to hide their tracks. Now, though, we’ve got something—an address and a time.

Nikolai stands off to the side with his arms folded tight across his chest. “You sure this isn’t a dead end? We’ve burned through leads before that turned out to be nothing.”

“I’m not letting this slip by,” I snap, resisting the urge to slam a fist on the table. “We can’t keep treading water while that bastard Davide roams free. If this clue has even the faintest chance of giving us answers, I’m taking it.”

“I get that. But if it’s a setup—”

“Then I’ll handle it,” I interrupt, pinning him with a hard stare. “We’re not amateurs here.”

Aleksei, who’s been silent in the corner, lifts his gaze. The overhead light glints on his watch, a reminder of how much time we’ve wasted on worthless leads. “No, we’re not amateurs,” he agrees. “But we can’t ignore the possibility that Davide’s using this address to lure us out. The Rossis would love to pick off a few of our men.”

Maksim snorts from his seat as he takes a swig from his flask. “Better they try and fail, right? Because they will fail. They always do.”

Dmitri eyes him with a flicker of annoyance. “Keep your wits. I’d rather we not walk into a bloodbath with you drunk.”

Akim, who has been pacing like a restless hound, adds, “A bloodbath might be what we need to send a message. You think the Rossis are going to roll over just because we got guns? No. We storm their hideout, find Davide, and put an end to his meddling once and for all.”

My patience frays. “Enough.” My gaze travels over each brother. Aleksei, calm but wary. Nikolai, doubtful but grudgingly supportive. Dmitri, the brains who’d prefer more intel before charging in. Maksim, the wildcard. And Akim, itching for a fight. “We do this right. We go in, confirm if Davide’s there, and if it’s him… we finish him.”

Aleksei nods. “Time?”

Dmitri gestures to the slip of paper. “Midnight, old shipping yard on the east side of the city. We’ve got a few hours to get in position.”

“Fine,” I say, shoving the paper into my pocket. “Everyone gears up. I want eyes on that yard at least an hour early. If there’s movement, we’ll know.”

Nikolai grimaces. “If this is truly Davide, we might finally get the name of whoever hired him to target Pavel. That alone is worth the risk.”

Pavel’s loss left a hole in our family. He wasn’t just an ally—he was practically a brother by loyalty and bloodshed. The idea that Davide still breathes while Pavel’s in the ground makes mychest tight with rage. “We leave in two hours,” I announce, biting out the words. “Get your teams ready.”

They file out, each with a different expression reflecting how they feel about this lead. I stand there a moment, inhaling slowly, forcing my clenched fists to relax. Tonight, we either find justice for Pavel or we confirm yet another worthless trail. Either way, I’m done sitting idle.

***

Two hours later, we’re approaching the shipping yard in four vehicles with tinted windows hiding our faces. The yard stretches near the waterfront, with rusted cranes and rows of abandoned cargo containers standing around. Dmitri parks in the rear to scan the area with night-vision scopes. Our men disperse quietly, forming a perimeter. Maksim and Akim stay close to me, while Aleksei positions himself on higher ground with Nikolai to watch for an ambush.

I grip my pistol and whisper into the radio, “Status?”

Aleksei’s reply crackles back. “No suspicious movement yet. It’s quiet.”

Maksim pops a piece of gum in his mouth. “Too quiet.”

I ignore the cliche, though it does rankle my nerves. We creep between shipping containers. The stench of salt and rotting metal stings my nostrils. Dmitri signals that the warehouse in question is just ahead. A battered sign reading “G12” hangs off the corrugated metal walls.

Nikolai’s voice crackles over the comm. “Seeing a couple figures. East entrance, near a stack of crates.”

I glance at Akim, who nods, itching to storm forward. “Steady,” I order. “We confirm if Davide’s among them first.” My breath slips out in a low hiss as I peer around a corner, vantage perfect to spy on two men. One is short and stocky, the other tall with broad shoulders. Hard to see faces in the darkness.

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