“Because she didn’t know.” The words came out rougher than I intended. “She grew up thinking the Bratva killed her father for no reason. Thinking Rafael destroyed her family and then brought her into the organization as some kind of twisted power play. She’s been operating on incomplete information, and she deserves to know the truth.”
“The truth?” Kirill’s voice rose slightly before he caught himself and lowered it again. “The truth is that her father was anFBI asset who infiltrated our organization. The truth is that he compromised operational security and got himself executed for it. The truth is that Rafael showed mercy by letting her live and arranging for her care. She should be grateful, not looking for revenge.”
“Grateful?” The word tasted like ash. “You want her to be grateful that her father was murdered and she was abandoned in an orphanage? That she spent years not knowing who she was or where she came from? That Rafael pulled her back into the organization that destroyed her life and made her dependent on it for survival?”
“Yes.” Kirill’s expression hardened. “Because that’s how this world works. Loyalty matters. Family matters. And crossing those lines gets you killed.”
We stared at each other across the table, and I could feel the foundation of our friendship cracking under the weight of this conversation. Kirill was right—logically, strategically, he was absolutely fucking right. What I’d done was reckless and dangerous and potentially catastrophic.
But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
“I’m not betraying the Bratva,” I said quietly. “I’m not working against Rafael or trying to undermine the organization. I just needed to understand the situation before it spiraled into something worse.”
“And now that you understand it? What’s your plan? Help her get revenge? Help her destroy the family that’s protected you your entire life? Choose her over blood?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.
Would I choose her over blood? Over the family that had raised me, trained me, given me purpose and identity? Over Rafael, who’d been more like a brother than a cousin, who’d taught me the difference between power and control?
I didn’t know.
That was the terrifying truth of it. I genuinely didn’t fucking know what I would do if it came down to that choice.
“I’m trying to find a middle path,” I said finally. “Some way to give her the truth without burning everything down.”
“There is no middle path.” Kirill’s voice was flat. Final. “Either you’re loyal to the Bratva, or you’re loyal to her. You can’t be both.”
“Watch me.”
He shook his head slowly, something that looked dangerously close to disappointment crossing his face. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Drew. And probably her too in the process.”
“Then help me.” I leaned forward, holding his gaze. “You’re the best tech person I know. The smartest. If anyone can figure out how to navigate this without leaving a trail that leads back to either of us, it’s you.”
“I’m not helping you commit suicide.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to help me find the truth. The real truth, not the sanitized version that’s been filed away in sealed investigations. Help me understand what really happened to David Miller, why he was executed, whether there’s more to the story than what the official records show.”
Kirill was silent for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the table in a rhythm that spoke to his internal debate. Finally, he exhaled slowly and met my eyes.
“If I do this,” he said carefully, “we do it my way. No more rogue access. No more leaving traces. We use proper channels, we cover every step, and we make damn sure that if this blows up, it doesn’t take both of us down.”
Relief flooded through me. “Agreed.”
“And you need to understand something, Drew. If it comes down to choosing between you and the organization, I’mchoosing the organization. You’re my best friend. My brother in everything but blood. But loyalty to the Bratva comes first. Always.”
The words should have hurt more than they did. Should have felt like betrayal. But instead, they just felt honest. Real. The kind of brutal truth that defined the world we lived in.
“I understand,” I said.
“Do you?” He studied me with those sharp blue eyes that missed nothing. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re already halfway gone. Already choosing her over everything else. And that kind of attachment makes you weak. Makes you vulnerable. Makes you the kind of liability that gets people killed.”
“I’m not weak.”
“No. But you’re compromised. And that’s just as dangerous.”
***
We stayed at the club for another hour, drinking in tense silence while the music pounded around us and the crowd grew denser. Kirill outlined his plan—careful access to archived files through legitimate channels, using his position as the lead tech architect to justify the searches, building a narrative that made sense if anyone questioned the activity.
