Page 6 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

More quiet. Ludmil is an odd mix—a talker and a thinker at once. An asset, unquestionably. A friend. “You are not weak.” His voice is loud with the force of belief.

I glance over. His bald head is a study in certainty. All hard angles, deep-set blue eyes.

A muffled shout farther off—Osip’s, no doubt—reaches us.

Ludmil glances that way. “Do you really think—”

“Osip has always loved to flout authority,” I admit, “but he’s not suicidal.”

Ludmil’s brows leap.

“You can tell the men to kill him on sight—my orders,” I tell him.

One mistake need not follow another. I let pity get in the way of reason once. Not again. I turn to look at the doorway where I saw my brother for the last time. Ludmil still lingers. “Everyone has their weaknesses,” he finally says.

I nod. “Until they conquer them.”

My gaze wanders. The council room seems smaller without the other Bratva men.

“Whiskey?” Ludmil offers. There’s something at the corner of his lips. A sad smile that wants to shed the sadness.

I have to smile. “The contents of your official-looking leather briefcase revealed.”

Ludmil grins full-out. “Got me. I figured, after a day like this …” He takes a swig, passes it to me.

We stand there drinking, passing it back and forth. Until I tell him, “I can go, you know.”

Ludmil hands me the Macallan M bottle back, takes a step away.

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“But you want me to,” he says.

“Yes,” I admit.

He nods. If that hurt, he knows better than to let it show. “Goodnight, don.”

Yes, Ludmil really does know me well. And in his absence, there’s another. Standing here, all alone … No, perhaps not. It’s just me and my memories after all.

I wander into the midst of the circle, and stop at the red chair. Long-forgotten voices crowd in my head.

So, we meet again.

I sit down, take a swig of the whiskey.

Your own brother … We’ll be kings of the city … Promise me, please, Gino …

Another swig.

Maybe, one day …

No.

Exile is exile. I can never see Osip again.

And yet.

The whiskey is already working its magic on my brain. Thoughts are escaping me.

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