"These idiots," she mutters in Russian.
Nico snorts and surprises me by speaking in my native language. "You missed us, didn’t you?"
She gives him a look. "Don’t push it." She looks from Nico to Grigori, "Looks like you two are getting along just fine, teaching him Russian and all."
"This one is a natural." Grigori slaps Nico on the shoulder, a rare smile forming on his lips.
"It seems it's in our best interest to clean both our houses," Grigori nods.
"Agreed."
"Let's talk about Caracas," Grigori invites us to sit on a group of deep-red leather chairs and couches.
"Let's," I nod and move to a couch, taking Oksana's hand to have her sit next to me.
With a roll of her eyes, she acquiesces, and Grigori raises an eyebrow. "Respect."
"Oh, for crying out loud," Oksana pouts, but smiles. Even if she didn't mention it, I knew she was worried about Grigori and me meeting in person. According to her, the first time didn't really count because it was business; this is private. I wink at her. Telling her with my eyes,trust me, your brother will eat out of my palms.
She shakes her head, and the message back is clear:trust me, he'll eat your eyes.
"What did you find out in Caracas?" Grigori asks after getting comfortable in a padded wingchair, crossing one leg over his other knee.
I exhale slowly. "We confirmed a link between the Russians and the Venezuelans. An old and deep one, going back to Viktor Voronin.
Grigori’s eyes narrow; it's easy to see that he hates the sound of the man's name. "Speak."
"There was an alliance," I fill him in. "Between Caracas and Moscow. Viktor Voronin," I continue, "was married. In secret. To Silvestre's sister, Marisol, to deepen a deal they had for smuggling heroin and weapons."
Grigori goes still. Completely still. "And?" Grigori’s voice is low, a warning, already suspecting there is more.
"And they had a son," I say.
Silence hits the room like a blow. Nico shifts in his chair, not startled, guarded. "A son?"
Grigori’s fingers curl into the arm of his chair. "It's true then?"
"Yes." I don’t soften it. "And he’s alive."
Oksana leans forward, eyes like ice. "Alexei Valverde Voronin."
Nico whispers, "Jesus…" His eyes flick to Grigori, then away just as fast. He must have realized what this means to the Pakhan's throne, too.
I nod. "The Valverde family hid him, raised and protected him, knowing fully well his value, especially after your father killed Viktor and became Pakhan. The Cells we’re dealing with? They aren’t loyal to Valverde. They’re loyal to Alexei.To Viktor’s heir."
Grigori shuts his eyes once, long and slow, then opens them again, pale and lethal. "As long as that boy exists, my throne is not secure."
No fear.
No insecurity.
Just calculation.
Oksana clicks her tongue. "Viktor planned an alliance he never intended to fulfill. But once a child was involved, the dynamic shifted. Venezuela saw leverage. Legacy. A path into Moscow."
Nico nods slowly. "And when Viktor died…"
"They kept the boy hidden," I finish. "A weapon. A symbol. A claim."
