Mikhail:
He’s asking questions
Daniil:
Stop texting about this
Mikhail:
Relax nobody’s reading our texts
Mikhail:
Right Alexei???
Me:
You’re both idiots
Mikhail:
Cool see you in 20
I sigh and rub my forehead, already picturing exactly what’s happening. They’re probably sitting next to each other right now with their phones out, typing like assholes.
Mikhail kicking Daniil under the table, him pretending to ignore him while typing exactly what Mikhail tells him to. Both of them trying to get a rise out of me like when we were kids, except now it’s not about stolen candy or broken windows.
I curse and toss my phone onto the passenger seat. I lean back and try to breathe, but it sticks halfway down my throat.
I put the car in drive and pull away from the curb. The warehouse Mikhail’s talking about is down by the port we control. Calder’s favorite spot when he needs privacy. Bad news for whoever’s inside.
Our family runs that entire port.
We oversee shipments, keep the smaller families in line, take orders straight from Father. On paper, it’s a legitimate shipping company with a long-term lease, clean and legal. No one looks twice at the paperwork.
In reality, nothing gets in or out without us knowing about it first. Guns, stolen cars, crates with no names attached. It all passes through our hands before it goes anywhere else. Doesn’t matter who signed for it or whose name’s on the official documents. If it hits that dock, it belongs to us until we decide we’re done with it.
I don’t know what Mikhail’s talking about, saying Father’s acting suspicious.
Unless they talked recently. Which means Mikhail probably fucked up. Again. He can’t keep his mouth shut, can’t just answer simple questions without volunteering extra information. Tries to explain things that don’t need explaining, fill silence that should stay empty.
Father notices everything. Every pause, every word that doesn’t belong, every time someone tries too hard to sound normal. And Mikhail always tries too hard.
If the old man suspects something, it’s because Mikhail gave him a reason to.
I parkbeside Daniil’s ugly-ass purple McLaren after clearing the security gate. Still can’t understand why he picked that color out of every option on Earth.
I glance out the window and see them inside the car talking with their hands flying around like they’re mid-argument.
Figures. I kill the engine and step out.
The second my door slams shut, I hear theirs pop open too. Footsteps crunch across the gravel behind me, and someone grabs my shoulder.
“Don’t,” I say.
Mikhail freezes. “What if Calder mentions something to the others?”
“He won’t. He’s loyal to everyone in the family and keeps everyone’s secrets. That’s why we all trust him.”
