Page 29 of Deadly Offer

“Alexei got out,” Nikon said, checking his phone one final time.

Reuben leaned against the brick wall, finally allowing the adrenaline to subside. “That was close,” he said, his voice slightly unsteady. “Too close.”

“Yes.” Something had shifted in Nikon’s face. The conflict that had haunted him for the last couple of days hadn’t vanished entirely, but it had crystallized into something harder, colder. Necessity over sentiment.

Reuben straightened. “So what now?”

“We regroup.” Nikon’s hand briefly touched the holster beneath his jacket where his gun was already secured, his decision made. “And then we make Andrey pay for what he’s done.”

Chapter 11

Reuben’s back stuck to the leather sofa as he peeled himself forward, sweat prickling beneath his collar.

The safe house’s industrial heating system roared like an angry beast, turning the air thick and suffocating. Someone had jimmied the thermostat weeks ago, but priorities for this particular safe house didn’t include creature comforts. And breathable air apparently ranked below bulletproof glass and escape routes.

The converted warehouse, all exposed brick and steel beams, felt like an oven despite the high ceilings. Harsh fluorescent strips hummed overhead, while industrial pendant lights hung lower over the table in the makeshift war room where Alexei paced.

“It’s been fifty-three minutes.” Reuben checked his watch again. The ambush at the south casino two hours ago played on repeat in his mind; the gunfire, Leo’s body sprawled across the floor, and the sprint through that hidden tunnel he never knew existed.

Alexei paced the length of the room. “Grigorii should be here any minute.” His calm tone didn’t match the way he kept touching his bloodstained sleeve; a through-and-through bullet wound he’d dismissed as ‘barely a scratch’.

“He should’ve been here twenty minutes ago.” Nikon stood by the window, one finger creating a small gap in the industrial blinds. His shoulders formed a rigid line beneath his once-immaculate shirt, now stained with dust and someone else’s blood. “Did you call him again?”

“Twice.” Alexei’s fingers drummed against the metal table. “He knows we’re here.”

The door’s security system emitted three ascending tones.

The three men froze.

Nikon’s hand vanished beneath his jacket—the subtle shift in his posture revealing his readiness to draw his gun. Alexei pushed himself upright, his face temporarily blanching as the movement tore at his injured arm. Despite the pain, he positioned himself to face the potential threat directly.

Meanwhile, Reuben remained still, mind rapidly figuring out escape routes. The back window led to a fire escape. The side door connected to a maintenance corridor. The ceiling panel above the bathroom concealed an emergency shaft.

Three seconds of perfect silence. Then the reinforced door swung open.

Grigorii filled the frame, his massive shoulders nearly touching both sides. “Traffic on the north side is a bitch.” He stepped inside, eyes scanning each of them in turn. His gaze lingered on Alexei, taking in the bloodstained sleeve and the pallor beneath his brother’s usual confident demeanor. After a moment that seemed to catalog every detail of Alexei’s condition, he said simply, “Alexei, you’re bleeding on a half-million dollar rug.”

“It’s my blood. I’ll replace it.”

Reuben watched the subtle shift as Grigorii’s gaze found him; assessing, appraising. The eldest Matvei brother nodded once—the closest thing to approval Reuben had ever received from him.

“So.” Grigorii removed his coat, revealing the holster beneath. “Someone tried to kill my brothers tonight. Let’s not waste time.”

Reuben studied the family hierarchy reasserting itself in real time. Grigorii’s presence changed the temperature of the room.Not just his physical mass, but the gravitational pull of his authority.

Alexei straightened, despite his injury. Nikon subtly adjusted his stance. Brothers becoming soldiers. Family becoming a war council.

Meanwhile, Reuben didn’t shift his weight or adjust his position. Instead, he maintained the same careful posture he’d learned at high-stakes poker tables—aware that while his connection to Nikon was unquestioned, his role within this brotherhood remained undefined.

Nikon’s jaw flexed. “We stopped for this on the way.” He placed a thin metal case on the table. “Evidence. About Andrey.”

The room temperature seemed to drop by ten degrees.

“Evidence of what?” Grigorii’s voice was dangerously quiet.

Something cold and hard settled in Reuben’s stomach as Nikon met his brother’s eyes.

“Treason.”

---