Page 21 of Sins He Taught Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 3)

When he does, we’ll be ready for him. He won’t get away a second time.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” I say, growing more annoyed with the situation. “Keep looking for him. He’ll show up again. He’s waiting for the right time. Probably when he thinks we’ve moved on. Too many people are talking about him for him to just throw in the towel.”

“I think we should all be ready,” Timofei says to the others sitting around the large oak table. “If Dmitry’s murder had anything to do with us as a whole, he won’t hesitate to take more of us down. Stay on alert, even more than usual. We don’t need any more of us ending up dead.”

Hearing how casually Timofei talks about my brother stings, but that’s why he’s my second-in-command. He’s emotionless, and that helps me keep my own self in check.

But this isn’t just business. This is family. Legacy. The one thing I swore to protect above all else. I struggle to keep my face neutral at the off-handed mention of Dmitry.

But inside, something deep throbs at my brother’s name.

“Next,” I say through a suddenly tight throat. “What other business is there?”

“Well, there is the matter of Brahim…” Timofei begins cautiously.

I growl deep in my chest. Bad news come in threes, they say, and the truth of that seems to be bearing out wickedly of late. Dmitry, Niko—and now, Brahim Shehu.

I remember when the Albanian first appeared, nearly a decade ago. Rumors of an Eastern European hitman, the most savage killer working on the streets, had reached my ears from distant corners of the city. He’d picked up a devout following quickly, and built what was once a ragtag Albanian crew into a major player in the import/export traffic that fed through the city’s southern vein.

Brahim.

Our encounters were few and far between, but they always left me with a bad taste in my mouth. He had been courteous and deferential, once upon a time, as was due to a man like me.

But that politeness has long since vanished.

Lately, he’s been nipping at the edges of my territory, violating years’ worth of fragile peace treaties in the process. The attack on the laundromat and drug production facility on the night of Dmitry’s murder was the most forward confrontation yet.

We paid him back in kind. Various crews of his, trussed up and kicked out of town. An equal strike, equal bodies on both sides. Fair is fair. An eye for an eye. That’s the law of my jungle, and Brahim himself had earned his men’s deaths with how he’d chosen to lash out at me.

But it didn’t seem to faze him much. A man of his caliber would recognize our retaliation for what it was—pawns taking each other out. No pieces of consequences have yet been exchanged.

The time for that might be coming soon.

One of my soldiers clears his throat and starts to say, “Do you really think—”

A small, shrill scream cuts through his sentence. It’s coming from somewhere else in the house.

“Goddammit,” I mutter. I push myself up from the seat and head downstairs.

In Nikolas’ bedroom, I find Yaroslav with his hands on his head. He’s pleading with the boy to stop crying.

I shove him out of the way and look down at Niko. “What’s wrong?” I ask the man behind me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Yaroslav says, stuttering as he speaks. “I put him down for a nap and he was fine. Then he woke up screaming. He won’t talk to me.”

I reach out and touch Niko with my hand flat on his little back. I’m about ready to snap, but I know that won’t help things. It’s not his fault, what’s happening. He just doesn’t know how to process the grief, the trauma, the horror of all the things he witnessed, the things he lost.

I keep telling myself it’s like a fever that needs to break. One day, he’ll wake up and be a bright-eyed five-year-old boy again. He’ll outgrow this nightmare.

I just need that to happen soon.

“It’s okay,” I tell him stiffly. As I stroke his back, Nikolas begins to calm down. He’s reduced to sniffles and a hiccup every now and then. To Yaroslav, I say, “Get upstairs. Tell Timofei to continue the meeting without me.”

He nods and leaves the room.

When we’re alone, I kneel down, getting on eye level with Niko. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Bad dream,” he says, his eyes rimmed red from the tears. He clutches his teddy bear to his chest.

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