Page 121 of Devotion

“Yet youreachedfor St. Petersburg. For our ports.” Vanya fails to mask the bitterness in her voice. “What does the Mocro want with Russia?”

“I will get to that. You’ve discovered much in your travels. More than most. I have spent the greater part of my life ensuring we became a legend. A mystery. This empire is my family’s legacy.”

“So why step into the open now?”

“I dealt in the shadows for so long, making quiet deals. Like with the Bratva. The other leaders were eager to open trade. Until things becameunsettledin our world. They panicked. Thought they could outmaneuver me, stab me in the back and end our dealings. You of all people would understand that behavior, Mr. Diamante.”

“I do. And would I be way out of line for thinking that you were negotiating with Dom Vipera as well?”

“An ambitious man. A devious man. And ultimately out of his depth. Although his actions following his arrest certainly showed a lot of clever forethought. He at least understands the revenge game.”

“More like the ‘if I can’t have it no one will’ game,” I mutter.

“Indeed. Those were the very actions that sent ripples through the criminal underworld. It made the Bratva nervous. Thus, they made a fatal error.”

“Fatal?” Vanya grits out, looking dangerous.

“They dealt in poor faith, then tried to renege. I miss the old days. Your great-uncle Giancarlo and myself were acquainted, Mr. Diamante. Allies even, from time to time. It was a tenuous alliance. But honest. We held trade, we stayed on our sides of the water, and we minded our business. The same could be said of the Bratva back then, the Lyras, the rest of the old Italian families. The Triads meddled, but mostly returned to the East when they got caught. The Yakuza stayed on their island.”

“Sounds like the good old days. No communication, no accountability.” I sniff, seeing both sides of the argument.

“In many ways. Things were simpler. The digital era is a double-edged sword. Better tech means more efficient work, but it also means someone might always be watching.” Adil muses, tapping his trimmed bearded chin.

“You still have not told us why you invaded our territory.” Vanya leans back, clearly done with her meal. And this history lesson.

“Come, walk with me in the gardens. We will continue our business there.”

We leave the white and bright room for a terrace, down a flight of winding steps. Below, clay-red tiles line the walk, leading into a resplendent garden, fountains and blooming, vibrant blossoms.

Even Vanya wonders at the sight, her frustration put on hold.

“When your brother died, I realized that with such a vacuum of power, I might make a bold move. So I reached out to the Bratva heads. Most were open to trade. Pyotr Sokolov of the Volk Bratva was not.”

“He is wise.”

“Perhaps. Certainly stubborn. He advised the rest of the clans not to deal with me. Even his rivals.”

“The clans have always been at odds, but ultimately, they share a certain amount of patriotism, you could say,” Vanya admits dryly.

“Precisely. Pyotr also advised them not to betray me when they decided to end our negotiations. But they did not listen. They killed many of my people.”

“So you were forced to retaliate?” I state, knowing the way things always go. Blood for blood.

“Yes, but knowing the bonds of the Bratva, I knew they would seek aid from the Volk, the most powerful of the clans.”

“Are you saying that you only invaded St. Petersburg to keep us busy?”

“To drive Pyotr and the Volk council to ground, yes. It worked. I did not expect two of his most decorated soldiers to come knocking at my door, however. I suppose it was a silver lining of sorts. It kept anyone with the ability to stop my Fingers from eliminating the Bratva leadership.”

We walk on in stupified silence for a few minutes, no longer noticing the lush greenery on all sides. The temperature of the gloriously sunny day drops for us by several degrees.

“You…killed them? All of them?”

“The Krest put up quite a defense. The rest did not see my emissaries coming.”

To this, I have nothing to say. Vanya is seething. At a loss.

And I’ve got my fucking foot in my mouth. These situations, dealing with leadership and negotiations…I feel so out of place. That was always Alessandro’s boat. I was the muscle, the briber, the strong arm, or the killer.

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