Page 91 of Bratva Bride
On cue, I shove him back, hard enough that he stumbles. I pull on the hurt and anger I felt earlier, letting it color my voice. “She’s clearly waiting for you.”
Without waiting for his response, I turn down the dim corridor that leads to the side exit, heels clicking too fast on the sticky floor.
My phone vibrates ten minutes after I leave the club.
Unknown number: Giacomo’s, back room. We need to talk. No one will see us.
Giacomo’s sits on a quiet side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus and a single tired waiter. I slip through the front, nod at the host, and head to the rear booth he reserved. Red candles gutter on checkered cloth, throwing long shadows over cracked plaster walls.
Konstantin is already there, jacket draped beside him, two untouched espressos cooling between us. I slide into the booth, keeping one eye on the doorway.
“Talk,” I say, crossing my arms.
He leans forward, forearms on the table, voice low. “Viktor is feeding Alexei. I’m almost sure of it. He keeps pushing me toward someone called Grigori, claims the man supplies Alexei with guns and safe houses. I did my own digging.”
I watch the light shift across his features, the line of his jaw tight. “And?”
“Grigori is a ghost,” he answers. “No records, no phone trails, no sightings. There is no evidence this man exists. Alexei uses real monsters, not imaginary ones. Viktor is baiting me with shadows.”
“Baiting you why?” I ask, leaning closer.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure yet. Viktor claims he wants the city to see strength, but the timing is wrong. Alexei profits every time we turn on each other. Viktor knows that.”
I reach for the water glass, buying a moment to think. Konstantin keeps talking, voice low and steady.
“I traced the bank accounts Viktor showed me. They lead nowhere. Shell companies closed last year, addresses that never existed. He’s setting traps. Either to stall me or to push me toward something worse.”
I study him in the dim backroom light. “You think Viktor is working alone?”
“No,” he says, fingers drumming once against the tabletop. “Someone stands behind him, but he keeps that name close. Whoever it is, they hold enough leverage that he would risk everything.”
Konstantin’s fingers tighten around the espresso cup, the silence stretching as he stares at the table like the words might rearrange themselves, like the truth might soften in the dark.
“There’s something else I suspect,” he says at last, voice low. “Have suspected for a long time.”
I lean in, heart thudding. “What is it?”
He lifts his gaze, and for a second I see the man behind the power—the one who’s been unraveling this knot thread by thread, even as the rope tightens around his throat.
“I think Alexei is dead.”
The breath leaves my lungs like a blow. “What?”
“There’s no news on him,” he says, his voice steady but edged with something close to disbelief. “No chatter. No sightings. My sources can’t find him, and I’ve used every name I trust. It’s like he vanished.”
“Vanished how?” I ask, though I already know.
“Like a ghost,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “But that’s starting to feel almost impossible. No one disappears like that without help. Without planning.”
My skin goes cold. “Nikolai?”
“He’s still alive. That I’m sure of.” He says it with the same conviction he used when swearing to protect us. “But something bigger is at play here, Nadya. Something none of us are seeing.”
The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just me, reeling under the weight of his revelations. Alexei…gone? But everything—the ambush, the chase, the messages—all pointed to him. I bite down the rising nausea and shake my head.
“I can’t go home now,” I say quietly.
He looks up, alarm flaring in his eyes. “What?”
