I lean back in my chair and study my brother. He's always been the hardest one to read. The brains of the family, Alex used to say, but brains wrapped in something none of us could quite name. Depression, the therapists said. Withdrawal. Emotional detachment.
I look at him now, and I'm not sure what I see.
"How long have you been tracking Viktor's movements?"
"Since the house." His gaze doesn't waver. "Someone needed to."
The house. The night my house burned. The night I got Aoife out while Viktor's bombs turned our home into rubble. The night that started all of this.
"You never said anything."
"You were occupied."
Occupied. His word for the withdrawal. For the three days Aoife spent holding a bucket under my chin while I shook myself apart. For everything that came after.
I don't argue. He's not wrong.
"Tell me about Viktor," I say.
Matty sets the phone down. For a long moment, he's quiet, his gaze fixed somewhere past my shoulder.
"Viktor Tarasov. Kira's uncle. Senior Bratva commander operating out of Eastern Europe for the past fifteen years. He's the one who orchestrated the contract that put Jason in the Bratva's pocket. He's the one who ordered the hit that nearly killed you outside the medical examiner's office," Matty pauses. "And he's the one who's been coordinating with whoever our mole is. Every attack. Every piece of intelligence that reached the Russians. Viktor is the one receiving it."
I think about Jason. My brother, who isn't actually my brother, who carries Frank's blood in his veins and Russian connections that stretch back further than any of us knew. Who married Viktor's niece and got himself exiled to another country because staying here would have killed them both.
Viktor Tarasov has been a shadow over this family for years. I just didn't know his name until now.
"Friday night," I repeat. "That gives us two days."
"Just under." Matty checks his phone. "Assuming he keeps to schedule."
I stand. The chair scrapes again. Matty doesn't flinch at the sound. He just watches me with those dark, careful eyes that see more than they should.
"I want floor plans of the warehouse," I say. "Entry points. Exit routes. Everything you can find on Viktor's security protocols."
"Already have it." He slides his phone across the table. "I sent it to your secure email an hour ago."
Of course he did.
I look at my brother. Really look at him. The way he's sitting, the way he's holding himself, the way he's already three steps ahead of everyone else in this house.
Alex was right. Matty is the quiet one you have to watch out for.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask.
His expression doesn't change. "Because someone has to."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." He picks up the pack of mints. Opens it. Pulls one out and holds it between his fingers without eating it. "You asked me once why I stayed. When everything fell apart. When Alex left. When Jason was exiled. When you took over, and we all knew you weren't ready."
I remember. The night after Alex's confession. The night I found out my brother killed our father and called it mercy. I asked Matty why he didn't walk away when he had the chance.
He didn't answer then.
He answers now.
"Because someone has to stay," he says quietly. "Someone has to remember who we were before all of this. Before the blood and the deals and the bodies." He puts the mint in his mouth. "I'm the only one left who can."
