Page 128 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

I take a sip of my drink, sit down at the bar beside him. “I can agree to that.”

He grins. “You really should’ve killed me when you had the chance. You do know that, right?”

“There’s a lot of things I should’ve done.”

Osip is studying me. “I heard about that man you beat up for your wife. David, Daniel, Damon, something like that; I can’t remember what my spies told me. What happened to the code?”

I consider lying or making an excuse, but in the end, there is not much to say. Osip doesn’t care, anyways. He is just a cat playing with his food at this point.

“It was for the best, anyway,” he remarks, waving his hand. “I know we came up with those rules ourselves, but I outgrew them. They got stifling at the end.”

“There are still lines that should not be crossed, Osip.”

“Look at me.” Osip’s voice is suddenly sharp, that odd light back in his eyes. “Do I look like someone who gives a fuck about crossing some imaginary line?”

“No,” I say honestly. “Not anymore.”

“Yeah.” He bobs his head. “Good.”

“But aren’t you afraid—”

Osip sets his glass on the wooden countertop with a smack. “Understand one thing about me, Gavril: I’m not afraid of anything anymore. Not anything.”

And that’s when I know for certain that he’s drunk, high, or both. Osip was always the more capable drunk out of the two of us, but all the signs are there. He was fucked-up on the phone with me, and he’s fucked-up now, talking out of his ass. He’s probably fucked-up all the time now. That’s how he’s been doing this—going so far from what we both once subscribed to.

“How long?” I ask him.

His eyes go furtive. “What?”

“You drink all day every day. For how long now?”

He just laughs. “That’s what you’re going to try and hit me with? That I’m drunk?Oh no, Osip, you can’t trust yourself, you’re drunk, you’ve been drunk for months!And when that’s not enough, you do a line or a pill and your brain is all scrambled …well, fuck you!” He’s screaming now, grabbing my shirt. “Fuck you! You were supposed to be my brother. We were supposed to stick together. Through anything. Anything!”

He’s breathing hard, glaring at me, shaking.

“I know. I made a mistake.”

He releases me, laughing again, bitterly this time. “Oh, you made a mistake.”

“I should’ve stopped this years ago.”

“Is that so?” he smiles mirthlessly.

I nod. “We always knew your temper had you in its claws, and you weren’t cut out for this life. Not until you figured shit out.”

Osip is drawing up to his full height, spreading his arms. “Oh, I figured shit out, alright. Wouldn’t you say? Wasn’t that one of our favorite quotes:might is right? It didn’t matter what bullshit our enemies spouted. All that mattered was who put a bullet in whose head at the end.”

He takes out a rifle and cocks it at me. “So, let’s see. I’ve just about defeated your army. I could kill you now and walk away unscathed. So wouldn’t that make me right?”

“Maybe.” I’m too tired for this, all of a sudden. “I don’t know anymore. Things have changed.”

“Oh yes, of course. I forgot about the little lady who’s made you question everything.”

My gaze jerks up to him. “You didn’t …”

“No. Not yet.”

“I can’t explain it to you. You can’t understand until it’s happened to you.”

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