Page 195 of Silenced

“I’m not into breath play with anyone other than enemies.”

“Good to know,” is my oldest brother’s droll retort. “Are Pushkin and Barkov the traitors in your ranks that you’ve been seeking?”

“We hope there aren’t anymore.” Maxim rubs the back of his neck. “Is it true that you started that mess with the Albanians?”

Nikolai’s smile is slow to form but when it does, it’s clear that he had his hands all over that situation.

Shaking my head, I ask, “Why?”

His focus is stern. “Why not?”

“They’re not our enemies,” I point out.

“Neither are they allies. They wanted something that belonged to me.”

“Enough said,” Maxim inserts, which is a miracle in itself.

Normally, I’m the referee between the pair of them, not the other way around.

At my sniff, Nikolai ignores me and pins Maxim with a glance. “What the fuck were you thinking? Setting off explosions on Kuznetsov turf? We barely got out of there alive.”

“It was worth it,” Maxim mumbles.

“Worth burning bridges for? I doubt it,” Nikolai snarls.

“Burning bridges?” he scoffs. “Like you did when you executed Turgenev?”

Though Nikolai grunts, he pins me with a look.

“What? You didn’t think he deserved to hear the good news? We all have a reason to hate that fucker.”

Groaning, Maxim sits up as he asks, “Have you heard of a hacker called Lodestar, Nikolai?”

Our older brother stills. “Everyone has heard of her.”

“She went missing and I tried to find her at her last location.” Maxim stabs a finger at Nikolai. “Thatis why I did it. Because she will owe me a favor, and that is the kind of favor every man wants. Especially when she’s up to her eyeballs in the Irish Mob too.”

Nikolai studies Maxim for long enough that I half expect Maxim to explode in temper, but instead, he asks, “How did you get involved with Lodestar?”

“That’s my business,” Maxim counters. “All anyone needs to know is that she owes me now. Twice over.”

I don’t rat Maxim out by telling Nikolai that no one has heard from Star Sullivan, aka Lodestar, in months.

“Who was on the team you used at Petrovsky Palace?”

“Does it matter?” Maxim dismisses. “They were allies.”

Unsure why he’s keeping the names close to his chest, I demur, “He wouldn’t lie about that, Niko.”

He’d better fucking not.

“What’s your next move?” Nikolai demands, but that he’s changed the subject means another miracle has happened—he’s giving Maxim the benefit of the doubt instead of giving him shit for making bad decisions.

Maxim grimaces at that question because he’s in more pain than he’s letting on, but therehasto be a next move—he must maintain control of the city and he can’t do that from a hospital bed.

Even if he shouldn’t be walking around for another month.

It’s a ‘kill or be killed’ world, and we were lucky that the men we had on guard the other night were loyal. Any hint of sympathy to the Krestniy Otets in them and he’d be dead.

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