process his words. Katya is dead. And someone is trying to cover their tracks. Talia told me. She told me she didn’t think it was over. And she was right. I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t listen to Nikolai.
“She wasn’t working alone,” Nikolai says. “Someone is cleaning up loose ends. Katya is not smart enough to set up that slide show and she was not in the building that day. I believe it is one of the Vory.”
I look at him from across my desk, and the name that has haunted me all my life is the only one that comes to mind. Nikolai knows what I am thinking before I even say it. His face is drawn, and I know he believes it to be true as well.
“Sergei.”
50
Alexei
The Vory has our own enforcers. Our own hitmen.
But none as skilled in the art of human suffering as the Irish Reaper. Ronan Fitzpatrick.
He is in my basement now, with Sergei.
While Viktor, Nikolai, and I watch from the camera in my office. I am feeling restless. Eager. It is all I can do to remain seated and have patience. But it is better this way. Because I have no control left. I would kill him in the first two minutes, and that would not do.
“You will end him,” Viktor assures me. “That is your right to do so, Lyoshenka. But you must be patient.”
I expected a fight from Nikolai. But I did not get one. Instead, he sits beside me. Watching as carefully as I. In my mind, I wonder if he has hope. Hope that we are wrong, and that our father did not do this. That he will somehow live.
But that is not the case.
It is evident when he finally breaks. Ronan has made him suffer past the point of all reason and strength. His mind can no longer withstand the pain.
“It was me.”
Those three little words burst from his mouth and ignite the darkness that has always burned inside of me. Because of him. For him.
This man who refused to acknowledge me as a son.
My own father murdered my wife and unborn child in cold blood. Exposed me to the other Vory as weak. And destroyed my life.
Both Viktor and Nikolai are waiting for me to get up. To rush downstairs and finish the job. But I am frozen by my grief all over again.
“Perhaps we should do it together,” Nikolai offers. “It would hurt him more if I were to help.”
His words are true enough. Something that would have felt bitter to me before is now just an honest truth that I can no longer deny.
Sergei only ever had love for Nikolai. Everyone else in his life was disposable. Myself. My mother. Even his mistresses. Nikolai’s mother disappeared years ago, and nobody knows what happened to her.
To have the only thing he ever valued participate in his destruction would be difficult for Sergei. I believed that I would never trust Nikolai again. That he could never make amends for what he did to me.
But as I rise up and he walks by my side to kill our father, I am grateful for his presence.
The basement is cold, with a persistent stench of copper and Sergei’s sweat.
When his sons enter the room and meet his gaze, there is a flash of betrayal as I had hoped.
But it is not for me. His eyes linger on Nikolai, assessing his intentions.
Sergei has lived by the Vory codes for most of his life. He already knows death will come. There is no doubt he accepts that as fact. But he believes that because he is a Vor, he will receive an honorable death.
He is wrong.
Already, his toenails and fingers have been removed. He has been water boarded repeatedly by Ronan Fitzpatrick and brought back to life several times already with shock paddles. His eyes are cloudy and his pulse is no doubt weak.
But it isn’t over. Not even close.
“Talia’s death was quick,” I tell him when I step forward. “But I can assure you that yours won’t be.”
I make a gesture to Ronan and he hands over the small black case. My fingers itch to open it. To touch the thing that will cause him pain unlike he’s ever known.
But instead, I hand it to my brother.
“You can do the honors,” I tell Nikolai.
It is difficult to relinquish this moment. But I know that Nikolai is right. This is what will hurt Sergei the most. His face is solemn but not