Thevorydon’t believe in chance. Every chair, every glass, every line of sight has a purpose. Power demands control, even in the smallest details.
And tonight, all of it feels aimed at me.
Mikhail, Viktor, and Dmitri are already seated when I enter with Sergei. Dmitri’s expression is steady, watchful. Mikhail’s jaw is set tight. Viktor sits motionless, his face a mask, though I can see the tension coiled in his shoulders.
I give them a nod and take my place at the center table, Sergei positioning himself directly behind my chair.
The air is heavy with silence until an older vor, Voronin, a man with a gray beard and pale eyes, lifts his glass.
“To the code,” he calls out in a loud voice. “And to the truth.”
The rest of us echo,“And to the truth,”then down the contents of our glasses. The sharp sting of vodka burns its way down my throat, cool and clean.
The oath follows, when we accept the council’s decision, whatever it may be. The words hang in the air like a noose.
When Boris Popov stands, the tension thickens.
He’s a big man—wide shoulders, slick hair, and a mouth too quick with smiles that never reach his eyes. He’s been circling since Yuri’s death, waiting for his moment.
“It is clear,” Boris begins, his voice deceptively smooth, “that Alexei Balshov believes himself above our laws. He killed his father, hispakhan, without council approval. Such an act cannotgo unpunished. The code is clear: betrayal of the brotherhood demands death.”
A murmur ripples through the room. I don’t flinch.
Boris keeps going, voice swelling with fake indignation. “The Balshov name has long weighed heavily over the bratva. It is time for a change. I propose that leadership be transferred to one who respects our traditions.” He pauses dramatically, letting the silence stretch before adding, “To me.”
Mikhail’s hand curls into a fist on the table, but Viktor’s reaction is more subtle. His jaw tightens, his hands ball into fists beneath the table, and he shifts as if to rise.
Dmitri grips his arm before he can rise. “Not here,” he mutters under his breath. “Not now.”
Boris doesn’t even look at them. He’s enjoying himself too much. “To seal peace between our families,” he says grandly, “I would see my daughter wed to Dmitri Balshov. A union to strengthen ties between our bloodlines.”
I see Viktor’s jaw tighten until the vein in his neck throbs. He doesn’t speak, but the fury in his eyes is enough to make the air crackle. Dmitri squeezes his shoulder again, warning him to hold his ground.
When Boris sits, I rise.
“Yuri Balshov was not executed out of ambition,” I say, keeping my voice low but steady. “He was executed because he lost control. Because he murdered our own. Because his actions endangered every man in this room.”
I slide a folder across the table. “Inside are photos, documents, recordings—proof of Yuri’s crimes. These include the deaths of Ivan, my mother, and his wives.” I pause to look around, tobe sure every man in the room is listening to me. “And the kidnapping of Elena Marino, sister-in-law of Matteo Rossi. A crime that would have sparked a war between our families and spilled blood across the city. I acted to prevent destruction,” I say. “But I will not lie. I should have brought the evidence to the council sooner. That was my mistake.”
There’s a murmur of assent, but also of unease.
One of the vory, Sokolov, leans forward. “You know the rules, Alexei. A man who takes justice into his own hands must answer for it before the council.”
“I do,” I say. “And I accept that.”
But Boris is smiling again, too calm. “Then we are agreed. The code is clear—”
He doesn’t finish because the quiet man beside him stands up, abruptly cutting him off. He's young, with broad shoulders and the same sharp blue eyes as Boris….his son, Andrei Popov.
“Sit down, boy,” Boris growls under his breath.
Andrei doesn’t. His voice cuts clean through the room.
“I have something to say.”
Every head turns.
Andrei’s hand trembles only slightly as he pulls a flash drive from his jacket pocket and places it on the table. “I found this in my father’s safe,” he says. “Proof of Yuri Balshov’s crimes. But also proof of my father’s involvement.”
