Page 30 of Deadly Offer

Grigorii’s face gave away nothing as Nikon slid the surveillance photos across the table.

For two agonizing minutes, no one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the hum of industrial fans and Alexei’s controlled breathing as he fought against the pain in his arm. Reuben counted his own heartbeats, (one hundred and thirty-three in total), as Grigorii methodically examined each piece of evidence.

Grigorii studied the photos one by one, his expression unchanging. His massive hands thumbed through the images with surprising delicacy, like a surgeon examining X-rays. He separated them into precise stacks, occasionally returning to an earlier photo to compare details, his eyes missing nothing.

Most telling was what Grigorii didn’t do. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t curse. He didn’t slam his fist into the table. The total absence of reactive emotion spoke volumes.

Grigorii’s eyes lifted from the photos, settling on Reuben. “And why is he here for family business?” The question came without heat.

Nikon straightened. “Reuben helped uncover Andrey’s operation.” His voice hardened. “And he was nearly shot tonight at the casino, same as Alexei. Reuben’s earned his place at this table.”

Grigorii studied Reuben for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a single curt nod before returning his attention to the evidence.

“How long have you known?” Grigorii’s voice betrayed no emotion as his massive hands rested on the damning evidence; Andrey’s lieutenant meeting with Dmitrii’s lieutenant, transaction records, inventory discrepancies.

Nikon’s jaw worked back and forth. “About a day or so.”

“A day or so.” Grigorii didn’t blink. Didn’t move. The stillness made him more threatening than any explosion of rage could have. “Our main vault compromised. One of our men dead. Alexei bleeding out. And you’ve been sitting on this for a day or so.”

“I needed proof beyond doubt.” Nikon’s shoulders rose slightly before settling back down. It was a pattern of tension Reuben had come to recognize as Nikon’s internal struggle for control.

Alexei leaned forward from his position at the head of the table, wincing as the movement pulled at the hastily bandaged wound on his arm. “Let’s start with what we know forsure.” His voice maintained that diplomatic calm that had talked them out of a dozen bad situations. “These photos confirm Andrey’s man met with Vasily outside the warehouse where the fake shipment was supposedly delivered. That doesn’t automatically mean—”

“Don’t.” Grigorii cut him off. “Don’t start with the excuses. He’s your twin, I understand, but—”

“But nothing.” Alexei’s normally smooth features hardened. “These financial discrepancies could be accounting errors. Andrey’s never had a head for numbers.”

Reuben studied the tension in Alexei’s shoulders, the too-careful arrangement of his hands on the table. Defending his twin was instinct, even with blood seeping through his bandages from a bullet meant to kill him.

“Call him.” Nikon’s command sliced through the tension. “He deserves a chance to explain.”

Alexei placed his phone in the center of the table. He tapped the screen, activating the speaker.

Four rings dissolved into silence.

“Andrey,” Alexei’s voice betrayed nothing, “it’s Alexei. We need to talk. Family business. It’s important.”

He tried again. Immediate voicemail.

Grigorii took out his own phone. “He’ll answer for me.” The statement carried absolute certainty.

But the immediate voicemail response answered more definitively than Andrey ever could have.

Grigorii stared at his phone, the muscles in his jaw working as the voicemail message played. The small scar across his right cheek became more pronounced as his expression hardened.

“He doesn’t answer for me.” Disbelief edged his voice, quickly giving way to anger. “In the middle of this?” Grigorii looked up at his brothers, his eyes narrowing.

Alexei pulled a laptop from his bag, wincing as the movement jostled his injured arm. “Let me dig deeper into these financial records. There might be something we’re missing.” His fingers flew across the keyboard despite the pain, his face illuminated by the screen’s blue glow.

“How much does he know?” Reuben kept his voice neutral, even as his mind raced. “About the operations, security protocols, safe houses?”

Grigorii’s head turned toward him, a hint of surprise briefly visible in his eyes. Not at the question, but at who had asked it. “Too much.”

“He knows about this place,” Nikon added, crossing to the security panel by the door. His fingers tapped a series of codes, reinforcing their defenses. “Though it’s not his preferred territory.”

Reuben watched the dynamic between the brothers; the way Alexei’s shoulders had tensed at Grigorii’s blunt assessment, the way Nikon positioned himself between Grigorii and Alexei, unconsciously protective. Family politics, played out in miniature against the backdrop of potential destruction.

The Matvei family operated like a complex ecosystem—each brother filling a specific niche, maintaining balance through carefully established boundaries. Grigorii, the apex predator. Nikon, the strategic defender. Alexei, the diplomatic mediator.

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