Page 5 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

On his feet now, Osip races for me. He’s going for pity now. “Gavril, brother. Please. This is me. Your Osip. You can’t.”

My men get to him first, seizing his arms as he struggles.

“C’mon, guys.” His head does another hopeful scan of the crowd. “It’s me. How long have I been here?”

Nothing.

“Imadethis shit!” he yells into the silence.

I want to look away. I don’t.

Even once they’ve got him in a full body-lock, eyes bulging, sweat-wet hair whipping every which way, my brother jabs ineffectually in an attempt to free himself.

That is Osip for you. A Vaknin. A man of the Bratva. A fighter, even to the very end.

I meet his hate-slitted stare. The rest of the words come easily, now that the decision’s been made. “Radovan will take you to the bus station, with enough money to get you to Chicago. If you return here, I’ll kill you myself.”

Still, he makes those useless, almost insect-like jerks to free himself. As they lead him away, he strains his head around to glare at me. “Your own brother.Your own brother.”

And then he’s gone, his accusing stare still cutting into me somehow.

“That’s all,” I tell the others. “Leave now.”

They file out quickly, quietly. Even a fool would know better than to disturb me now. In the next room, I can hear the conversation I cut short start up again.

I have made a mistake. One that may prove to be costly.

There is nothing more to be done now.

“Just promise me …”

“We’re gonna do it. You and me. Brothers, warriors. The Vaknin Bratva. It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

No. Not the time to think of that, the memories crowding in my mind, threatening to break free and wreak havoc.

“Boss?”

I’m not alone after all. Ludmil has stayed behind. He is looking at me with his sad, too-light eyes like he already knows how little I want to hear what he has to say.

And yet, he has to. It’s his job as my advisor: telling me things I don’t want to hear. As my ears and eyes in the Bratva, what he does for me is vital.

“The others, they thought—we all thought—”

“I know.”

I glare at the red chair. How to explain it, when I can’t even explain it to myself?

“He’s my brother, Lud.”

Ludmil is looking at the red chair too. “Yes. But the rules—”

“No family, no friends. No exceptions.”

My own words, turned against me.

I can still remember how intent we were, writing out those words on the paper, signing it with blood from our pricked fingers. How we put out hands on the document, one atop the other, saying the words, “I swear to follow the code, from now until the moment I …”

“I won’t lie to you,” I tell Ludmil. “I couldn’t do it.” His quiet leaves room for more. All I have to add is, “Perhaps that makes me weak.”

---