Page 74 of The Wrong Brother

What unsettles me most is realizing that these people: the criminals, liars, the dangerous men wrapped in expensive fabric. They seem happier for me than my own family has been in years.

Chapter 18

Ruslan

Andrei chose the restaurant carefully.It’s private enough to keep reporters at a distance, though they’re parked outside and get photos of both of us entering separately. Public enough that neither of us can openly kill the other without consequences.

The rooftop lounge overlooks downtown Denver. Wealthy people drift between fire pits and candlelit tables, pretending not to stare at us. They recognize him immediately.

Some recognize me too.

That bothers Andrei more than he wants to admit; I can see it in the tightness of his smile.

I arrive alone. No security visible, no entourage, no Emma. I don’t want her anywhere near him. He doesn’t deserve it.

Andrei watches me cross the terrace with obvious irritation already carved into his face. He stands before I even reach the table, his expensive navy coat sharp against the evening wind.

The resemblance between us still unsettles me after all these years.

Same height. Same jawline. Same dangerous stillness when anger settles in. It must’ve come from our mother’s side, which isn’t surprising; it was her great-uncle who brought me into the Bratva fold after she remarried.

Except Andrei’s restraint was always cleaner than mine. While I learned to survive in the shadows, Andrei learned how to smile through violence and call it leadership.

“You should not have come back,” he says immediately, a smile pasted on his face as we shake hands for those watching out of the corners of their eyes.

I pull out the chair opposite him and sit slowly. “And yet here I am.”

Around us, glasses clink softly. Somewhere near the bar, a woman laughs too loudly at something unfunny. The normalcy of it all feels almost surreal.

Beneath the surface, this has been building for years. If he thought he’d actually gotten rid of me, then he grossly underestimated how much I hate him.

Andrei remains standing for another moment before finally sitting across from me. His eyes sweep over my face carefully, assessing.

“I heard about California,” he says flatly. “You built quite a reputation.”

“So did you.”

His mouth hardens slightly. “Mine is legal.”

That almost earns a laugh. “Is it? You became predictable, Andrei. You know how dangerous that is.”

“And you became exactly what everyone feared.”

An interesting choice of words, as if we aren’t both criminals. Not hated—feared. He knows better than to insinuate that our mother didn’t love me. Maybe she moved on quickly, too quickly, after my father’s death. But she loved me.

The server approaches nervously, sensing the atmosphere immediately. Andrei dismisses him before either of us orders.

The second we’re alone again, his expression darkens further.

“Why are you here?”

The question hangs between us.

I could lie. Could tell him this is business; an expansion of territory back into a city I know. But he’s not worth lying to.

So instead I say, “You took everything.”

Something uncertain flickers behind his eyes. Then it disappears.