Page 9 of Hunted By the Masked BRATVA
"You don't know me," I whisper.
"I know you tried to kill a man at the Bratva masquerade." His voice drops, rough as gravel. "I know you ran into a forest wearing an evening gown. I know you grabbed a mask without understanding what it meant, because any risk was better than the alternative."
He leans closer, until I can feel his breath against my lips.
"I know you're brave and reckless and so focused on revenge that you can't see there are other ways to win."
"What other ways?" The question comes out breathless.
"Let me help you."
I pull back, breaking the contact. "Why would you help me? You work for the Reznikov’s. Troskoy is connected to them. Helping me means—"
"Means choosing your justice over their politics." He says it like it's simple. Like it's already decided. "I’m okay with that."
"You'll lose everything."
"I've already lost everything that matters." Something dark crosses his face. "At least this way I'll lose it for something worth losing it for."
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning I don't fully understand.
"You don't even know me," I say again, but it sounds weaker this time.
"I know enough." His hand drops to his side. "I know you're not a killer. Not really. You want to be, because you think that's what justice requires. But poison? Distance? That's not you."
"How do you know what I am?"
"Because a real killer would have tried a hundred different ways to get to Troskoy over the last six years." His smile is sharp, knowing. "But you waited. Prepared. And when you finally madeyour move, you chose the method that would keep you furthest from the actual act of killing."
Damn him for being right.
"So what do you suggest?" I cross my arms, hating how vulnerable I feel. "If not poison, then what?"
Konstantin's smile widens into something that makes my stomach flip.
"You said you mapped his empire. Documented everything."
"Yes."
"Then we don't kill him." He pulls out his phone, taps something, then turns the screen toward me. "We make him wish he was dead."
The screen shows a bank account. I blink, trying to process the number of zeros.
"That's—"
"One of Troskoy's offshore accounts. I've known about it for years. And I'm guessing you found it too, somewhere in your research."
I did. I found seven accounts, actually. This is the smallest one.
"He has more," I say slowly.
"I know. And you're going to drain every single one." Konstantin's eyes glitter behind his mask. "You're going to ghost through his systems, take every dollar, every connection, every piece of leverage he's built over decades. And then you're going to destroy the evidence that those assets ever existed."
Understanding blooms in my chest, dark and thrilling.
"I'm going to bankrupt him."
"You're going to erase him." Konstantin corrects. "No money. No power. No legacy. Just a broken old man who realizes too late that he missed one very important loose end." He crosses to thebathroom, returning after a few moments with a small first aid kit and a washcloth and towel.
