That’s Aleksei. Always above it all. Always untouchable.
His hair is slicked back, though I see hints of silver threading through the dark at his temples. Haven’t noticed that before. He has our mother’s jaw, sharp and gaunt, and according to her, he also has our father’s dead eyes—though I wouldn’t know that from personal experience. The old man fucked off before I could form memories.
He’s smoking, of course. The cherry of his cigarette bobs in the gloom like a malevolent firefly as he pulls a second chair across the concrete and sets it down in front of me. The screech of metal on stone sets my teeth on edge.
Aleksei settles into the chair backwards, arms folded across the backrest. “You look terrible, Semyon.”
“I blame your hospitality. I’m leaving a negative review when I check out, just so you know.”
Aleksei chuckles. “Still with the mouth. Some things never change.”
“Neither do some people.” I test the zip-ties again. No give. “Is this really how you wanted our reunion to go, Aleksei? Zip-ties and a warehouse? I thought family meant something to you.”
“Family meanseverythingto me.” Aleksei takes a long drag, then exhales twin jets of smoke through his nostrils. “That’s why we’re here, little brother. Because you seem to have forgotten what that word means.” He gestures around the warehouse with his cigarette. “This is not punishment, you know. You think it is, but it’s not. Zip-ties, warehouses, a little blood on the face—these things are good for a man who has lost his way. And you,bratishka,have lost your way.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I snort.
He ignores me. “Lost men need reminders.Youneeded a reminder. You and I, we came from nothing. We came from a junkie mother who couldn’t keep her legs closed and a father who didn’t stick around long enough to leave a fucking forwarding address. We built ourselves from the ground up, Semyon.Together.”
“We were never together,” I spit back. “You built a life one corpse at a time. I wanted no part of it.”
Aleksei’s mouth screws up in a smile. “And yet here you are. Covered in blood that isn’t yours, having done things that would make our mother weep, if she wasn’t too strung out to give a damn.” He leans forward, cigarette dangling from his lips, to squint at me. “You think you’re different from me, Semyon? You think running restaurants and fucking blind women makes you a better man?”
My jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth. “Leave her out of it, Al,” I snarl against my better judgment. Aleksei feasts on shit like that, the sentimental shit, theweakness,but I can’t stop myself from spewing it at him anyway. “She’s not part of this.”
“No?” Aleksei spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “She’s already in it, isn’t she? And I had nothing to do with that.You’rethe one who brought her in!” He pauses, then adds slyly, glancing away, “… You think I don’t know about the baby?”
The blood drains from my face. My whole body struggles against the restraints.
Aleksei nods happily. “Ah. There it is. The look of a man who finally understands how fucked he truly is.”
“If you touch her?—”
“At ease, soldier.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I have no interest in your pregnant girlfriend. She’s collateral, at best. A pressure point. Nothing more.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, then holds it in front of his eyes, contemplative as he examines the burning end. “Though I must admit, I’m curious. What is it about this woman that made you throw everything away? The kingdom we were building together, the future I had planned for our family—all of it, gone. For what? A blind girl with a cane and a belly full of your bastard?”
I jerk in my seat. My wrists strain against the zip-ties until I feel skin tear and hot blood ooze between my fingertips.
Aleksei reaches into his jacket and produces a tablet. The screen casts pale light across his beaked nose and hooded eyes as he swipes it to life. “Let me show you something,bratishka.”
He turns the screen toward me. The first image is grainy security footage of a parking garage. At the bottom of the frame, a figure carves through shadows. I know that posture, because the figure is me. The timestamp reads six weeks ago.
Aleksei swipes to another photograph. I know this one, too. It’s Eliana’s clinic attacker with his face caved in, my bloody handprint smeared across the wall beside him.
Swipe to more. The warehouse on the South Side. That Greek mobster’s body, his fingertips charred off, his face unrecognizable. He is me, I am him, we are both dead.
Swipe. Forensic reports.
Swipe. DNA samples.
Swipe. Bullet casings matched to the gun I carried.
Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.
He has proof of it all.
“You thought you were doing my dirty work,” Aleksei says as the screen goes dark again. “But really, you were building your own prison. I’m a careful man, brother, and these are my careful notes.” He taps the blackened tablet with one fingernail. “It all leads back to you, Semyon. Only you.”
“Why?” I croak.
