"It’s an animal. Maybe a fox or a badger."
The rustling continues and from the sound of it, it’s a small animal like he said.
"Can we look?"
I don’t give him a chance to answer. I tug him along, edging toward the sound then let go of his arm to crouchdown, peering into the bushes. Roman shines the flashlight.
Two small black beady eyes stare back at me from a rounded shape covered in spines.
"Is that a hedgehog?"
"Yeah."
"Really?" I inch closer, careful not to scare it away. "I've never seen one before. Only on television, not in real life."
It watches us, it’s nose twitching and body tense. "It’s kind of cute,” I whisper. “Look at it just sitting there.”
Roman says nothing, obviously not sharing my opinion. I watch it for a bit, then stand. "I should leave it alone. I think I made him too scared to move.”
After a few seconds the hedgehog scurries deeper into the bushes.
I turn around to Roman. “That was really cool. That’s the first animal I’ve seen in years. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I already did.”
We keep walking until the trees thin out and open into a clearing. I glance at him, wanting to pick up where we left off before the hedgehog interrupted us.
“Sometimes when I read for your father, I saw other people. They weren’t Bratva. Who else doesbusinesshere in Moscow?”
He looks at me sideways. “Why do you want to know all of this?”
I shrug. “I’m curious. I’ve seen bits and pieces of it over the years, but never the whole picture.” I meet his gaze. “Since I’m going to help, I want to understand how it works.”
He considers that for a moment. " Alright,” he agrees. “There’s the Georgians. They’ve been here for a long time. They’re established and too deep in the system to remove.They control a few territories in the southern districts; we have the rest. For the most part, we stay out of each other's way."
"Why?"
"It's just easier. No unwanted and unnecessary attention if we go at each other. Not that they’d win a war, but it’s pointless. It’s better to have boundaries and respect.”
"You mean like rules?”
“Exactly.” He gives me a faint smile. “Without rules, it’s all fighting and no money. The Georgians understand that. I don’t have a problem with them because they stick to agreements. They don’t overstep.”
"Besides the Georgians. What about the Alb?—”
“The Albanians,” he says, cutting me off. “Yes.” His lips curl. “They’re a problem. A big one that needs to be dealt with.”
"You hate them.”
"Yeah, I do.” His grip tightens around the flashlight. “I despise them. They're a threat. They don't follow the rules like the Georgians. They crawl into places they’re not wanted. Break agreements and take what doesn’t belong to them.”
“Your father allows this.”
“More than allows. He’s helping them.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “If I was in charge, there wouldn’t be an Albanian mafia in Moscow.”
He turns toward me, the dim light of the flashlight giving me a view of his face, the intensity and deadly intent in his eyes. “Soon,” he says. “You and me, Nala. We’ll deal with them.” He locks his gaze to mine. “You’re going to help me find every last one of them sliding into Bratva territory."
