Page 142 of Twisted Hearts

I know now why she voted with Abram at the table before. That piece of shit had the young daughter of a friend of Anastasia’s—her own goddaughter—held hostage.That’swhy.

This vote has ended, and it’s unanimous. There are only five families left on the High Council now. The Diduch family will cease to have a chair in the next two minutes, once Abram is dead. Demyan Ozerov has been granted mercy—after all, you can’treallyblame someone for voting alongside family, even if that family member is a piece of garbage.

It was proven that the Ozerov family wasn’t personally involved with any of the violence perpetrated by Abram, using Drazen’s name and reputation as a cover, so Demyan himself is spared the same fate as his cousin. All the same, the Ozerov family has been stripped of its seat at the table.

Yuri clears his throat. “The council has spoken. Abram Diduch, you have been found guilty of crimes against your fellow Council members. The punishment is banishment from the table…” He draws himself up to his full height. “And death.”

Abram squeals and sobs beneath his gag. But as Yuri just said, the council has spoken. Yuri turns and hands a Beretta fitted with a silencer to Marko—whom we unanimously agreed earlier should be the one who pulled the trigger if it came to that.

There’s no pomp and circumstance, no fanfare. He simply raises the gun, glares at Abram, and squeezes the trigger. The silencer muffles the shot—necessary, given that we’re in the middle of Soho. Abram’s head snaps back, and his body and the chair it’s tied to fall back heavily into the construction pit.

It’s Dimitra Drakos who’s so graciously donated this grave for us tonight. In a few hours, just before daybreak, the foreman of a Drakos-owned construction firm who’s building this development will arrive and pour fresh cement without looking too hard into the pit first.

An inglorious grave for a disgraced and despicable man.

Good. He deserves it.

When it’s done, we all shake hands. There’ll be another High Council meeting in a few weeks to discuss the latest topic of the hour: Drazen Krylov and his bid for a seat at the table.

Honestly, he has a good shot at it.

He’s got my vote, and everyone understands why: I’ve been very open about it. Curiously, though, he also has Yuri’s and Viktor’s vote—and those are just the ones I know about privately.

Since coming into his birthright—namely the Romanov crown jewels in the base of the Imperial Shield egg—Drazen has done exactly what he said he’d do. The Krylov Bratva is not quite a powerhouse yet, but itisgoing to be a force to be reckoned with.

It might even be a force that sits across the High Council table from me.

It was the contents of the dossier on Abram on Drazen’s hard drive that convinced, and allowed, the council to take this action today. I’ve got to hand it to Drazen; he wasthoroughin his collection of information.

The hard drive had clear proof of everything: Abram’s payoffs, the mercenaries he hired, the crimes he committed against the rest of us. Hewasbankrolling Svetlana’s legal attack against me, which was his way of trying to take me out of the picture. He had plans for all of us, even Anastasia, despite her voting for him under duress. Even for his owncousin, Demyan.

Actually, it’s the scope of the information onall of usthat was on Drazen’s hard drive that’s going to convince most of the Council to vote him onto it. He had information on some of us thatnobodyknows.

Hell, he even knew about Declan Kildare murdering my father, God knows how. He knew they met that night because Vadim wanted to confront Declan about the ongoing affair he’d been having with Svetlana for years.

Apparently, there was even a child of that affair. I have no idea what became of it, since Declan obviously didn’t raise it, and Svetlana sure asfuckdidn’t either.

But that child’s identity or whereabouts is a mystery for another day.

After we all shake hands again and start to file away into the night, Marko Kalishnik stops me with a hand on my elbow.

“Gavan,” he rasps, his vocal cords still damaged by the car bombing. “A moment, if I could?”

I nod. “Of course.”

He shakes his head, smiling sadly to himself. “I owe you an apology.”

“For?”

He shakes his head again. “For not knowing about your involvement with Eilish Kildare when I made my…” he shakes his head. “My suggestion concerning my daughter Milena.” He scowls. “I was wrong to hold the idea of forming my own power bloc to counter Abram’s over your head with a proposal like that. I felt cornered, and desperate, and I—”

“Marko,” I smile warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “I have nothing to forgive you for, because you have nothing to apologize for.”

He smiles wryly. “Perhaps we can think of it as a foolish act from a desperate man.”

“All I see is one tough son of a bitch who isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I don’t see desperation at all.”

He dips his head appreciatively as he reaches out and shakes my hand. “Vadim would be very proud of the man you have become. I hope you’re aware of that.”

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