Page 75 of Used Bratva Bride

“I have,” I confirm, leaning back in my chair. “I hope you have answers.”

Andrei chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “I might, but you know how this works.”

Of course, nothing comes for free. “Tell me what you have, Andrei.” I put him on speaker, setting the phone on my desk as I lean back in the chair.

“You’re looking into Sophia Spade,” he muses, as if tasting her name on his tongue. “Can’t say I know much beyond what everyone else does. Cunning woman, dangerous in the right ways. Careful. Meticulous. Which is why I find it strange that you seem to have such easy evidence against her.”

I tense at his words. Ivan said the same thing earlier. “Go on.”

“She has enemies, Mikhail,” Andrei continues. “Rivals. People who would love to see the Spades crumble from the inside. What better way to weaken them than to take out one of their most valuable players?”

I don’t react outwardly, but something clicks into place in my mind. Sophia might be an enemy, but she’s not a fool. Leaving evidence behind so obviously? It doesn’t add up.

“Who stands to gain the most from her being out of the picture?” I ask, my tone sharp.

Andrei sighs. “That’s the thing. The Spades have no shortage of enemies. There’s no direct link to anyone obvious. If she was set up, whoever did it covered their tracks well.”

Frustration tightens my grip on the phone. I need something concrete. A lead. Anything.

“I need names,” I say. “Anyone with a grudge. Anyone with connections to Valeri’s murder.”

“You think I’d hold out on you?” Andrei sounds amused. “Believe me, I’ve dug. Nothing ties back cleanly. But I’ll keep my ears open. You know I always do.”

It’s not the answer I want, but I know better than to push Andrei when there’s nothing to push for.

“Do that,” I say. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause before Andrei adds, “Careful, Mikhail. You’re looking at shadows. Sometimes, shadows look back.”

I hang up without responding. I don’t need his warnings.

I sit in silence for a moment, running through everything in my mind.

Sophia might not be guilty. Or, at the very least, not guilty in the way I thought she was. Someone wanted her out of the picture, and they used Valeri’s death to make it happen.

I rub my temples. So who? I have more calls to make. More favors to call in.

Except after an hour, the results are the same. Nothing.

Every contact, every informant, every person I trust (which isn’t many) either knows nothing or isn’t willing to talk. It’s like running into a brick wall over and over again, and it makes my blood boil.

I don’t like being in the dark. In fact, I hate being in the dark.

I need answers, and if nobody can give them to me, I’ll tear apart this city until I find them myself.

I’m about to make another call, when I shift uncomfortably. Something feels off. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. A slow, creeping sensation inches up my spine, warning me that I’m not alone.

I’ve been in this business too long to ignore instincts like these.

I push back from my desk, the leather chair creaking under my weight as I rise to my feet. My gaze flickers to the corners of the room, to the security camera in the far-left corner, blinking red, recording as it should. There’s no obvious sign of intrusion, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t listening.

Casually, I reach for my glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey as I move toward the door. I don’t give anything away, keeping my expression neutral, my steps unhurried.

I pull the door open in one smooth motion and step into the hall.

Silence. The corridor stretches out ahead, dimly lit by the sconces along the walls. Empty. That doesn’t ease the tension in my gut.

I take another step forward, listening. There’s nothing—no sound, no movement. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Or maybe someone was here, and they’re just good at disappearing.

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