Page 47 of The Bratva’s Monster

He glances at Rikki. “That’s Stefan Kiselev,” he says. “Current Pakhan of the Irkutsks. You do know who they are, yes?”

My stomach drops and I nod.

“Then you know what it means for Gedeon to be meeting with him.”

My mouth goes dry. “When was this video taken?”

“A week or so before his death,” Kostya says.

I immediately think of when the missing money mysteriously returned to our bank account and a wave of nausea comes over me. I saw the name Stefan in his notes with a question mark next to it.

Oh, God. Have I been wrong all along?

I straighten my back and hand him back the phone, my mind trying to make sense of what I’ve just seen.

“If there is any way you can prove to Alex that this video isn’t what it seems,” Kostya says to me, “I would suggest you do so quickly.”

He looks to Rikki and says, “I’ve got to go, but I’d appreciate it if you kept me out of this from here on out.”

“I can do that.”

He turns and leaves, and I’m just sitting here, watching him go. My eyes start to sting and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. I swallow and clench my jaw. No. This isn’t going to break me. Gedeon couldn’t have… he wouldn’t have…

“You said you were looking through his things,” Rikki says once Kostya is gone. “Did you find anything that might explain that video?”

I can’t bear to tell him that I’ve found the opposite, so I just shake my head.

“At the time of that video,” Rikki says, his voice a soft rumble, “Stefan wasn’t Pakhan yet. He was just another player in the Bratva.”

“So…?”

“So, it’s got me thinking. If he was paying for something from Gedeon, what was it? Sure, information’s good, but if he was next in line for the throne, it seems more plausible that he’d want to try and take his Pakhan’s seat instead.”

“I don’t know.” I can hear the cracking in my voice. “I don’t know, Rikki. I… I should go.”

I stand up and go to leave. He takes me by the arm, stopping me. “Don’t give up. We haven’t even started yet.”

I nod and I want to smile. I want to hug him and thank him for believing me, but I can’t. I feel like the biggest fucking fool.

I leave without a word. I might actually be royally fucked.

I don’t make it all the way home before I start to weep. The emotion just gets to be too much. “Dammit,” I say as I pull over. “Stupid, stupid.” I should have just taken my father’s offer and gone home when I had the chance. I guess I still could. But even if I did run, would it be enough? There are Bratva all over the world. All it would take was for one of them to find my father or me…

And then there’s Rikki and all these complicated feelings I have for him. I don’t know if this is just misplaced lust or what, but I don’t really want to have to move forward in any capacity without him.

So, what do I do? How do I prove Gedeon is innocent?

I look up to see that I’ve parked in front of a coffee shop and the urge to have a frappe comes over me. This must be what cravings are.

I get out of the car. One frappe on the way home and I can reevaluate things. Rikki’s right. This isn’t over. I can’t give up yet.

The smell of fresh-roasted coffee bombards me as I walk through the doors. There’s a short line, so I get in and wait, looking up at the menu board above the barista station. I probably shouldn’t have something with so much caffeine. I read something somewhere years ago that says that it’s bad for unborn babies. Wonder if I can get it in decaf…

I hear someone laughing behind me. It’s a low sound that’s almost mirthless. Others are laughing as if someone just told a joke. I look over my shoulder and I do a double-take.

The man I now know as Stefan sits at a table with three or four other men. In real life, he looks much more put together than he did in that video. His hair is almost completely silver and his goatee is well-trimmed. He’s smiling at one of his men’s jokes and his face seems to change—light up in a way. He’s wearing a black dress shirt with a gold chain as he drinks his espresso. He almost looks like a caricature of himself.

He’s surrounded by his people. Tattooed men in business attire, dress shirts and slacks and jewelry. Some are bearded, some not, all looking as though they own this coffee shop.