Page 7 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

Yuri’s lip trembles. “I didn’t want this.”

I gesture at the alley—the blood, the wreckage, the desperation. “You made your choice.”

Boris stands back, letting me handle it. He knows this part isn’t for him.

“You sat at my table,” I say, quieter now. “You toasted my name. You called mebrother.”

Yuri’s breathing turns shallow. His eyes fill. “You can still use me. I’ll fix it. I’ll give you everything.”

I stare at him for a moment longer. Then I rise to my feet.

“Call Lev,” I say to Boris. “We need a cleanup crew.”

“You want him alive?”

“For now.”

Boris gives a nod, stepping away to make the call. The radio crackles faintly as he speaks.

I look down again. Yuri’s pressing both hands to the hole in his leg, face soaked in sweat.

“You’re going to bleed out if I don’t stop that,” I tell him. “But before I do, you’re going to talk.”

He shakes his head. “They’ll kill me.”

“Not before I do,” I say. “And I’ll make it slower.”

He whimpers.

I crouch again, this time so close I can smell his fear—salt and rust and the kind of sweat that only comes from knowing your end is right in front of you.

“Start talking.”

There’s a beat. A single second where he holds my gaze.

Then he breaks.

“I met them at a restaurant in Little Odessa. Two weeks ago. The Italian—Luca—he was there. He said they’d kill my son unless I gave them the drop point for the West End shipment.”

I say nothing.

“I did it once. Just once,” he pleads. “Then they came back. Asked for more. They knew everything. I think someone else is feeding them too. Someone from the inside.”

“Names,” I growl.

He swallows. “I don’t know. There’s a guy in our crew A driver. I don’t know his full name, just his face.”

I nod slowly.

Boris finishes the call and returns. “They’re on their way.”

“Good.”

I meet Yuri’s eyes one last time. “You gave them my routes. My people. My blood.”

“I was scared,” he whispers.

I lift the gun again. “You should be.”

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