Piotr lifts his head with visible effort, his good eye tracking my face with the bleak awareness of a man who has started to understand that the story he came prepared to tell will not get him out of this room.
“I don’t know her,” Piotr says hoarsely. “I swear on my mother.”
“His mother’s dead,” Tatiana says. “I checked.”
Piotr’s mouth trembles, and I smile faintly. “That was unfortunate timing for your oath.”
Tatiana pushes away from the wall as if she can no longer bear the insult of not participating. “Let me have five minutes with him,” she says, voice sweet enough to worry anyone with survival instincts. “I’ll make him write her name in blood with his own finger.”
Piotr goes gray.
I glance toward her at last. “No.”
Her face falls into theatrical betrayal. “You never let me do anything fun anymore.”
“You cut open three men yesterday.”
“That was work,” Tatiana says, offended. “This is family bonding.”
“Your family bonding makes other families look emotionally stable,” Maksim mutters from the door.
Tatiana gives him a bright smile. “Say that again when I’m holding something sharp, Maks.”
Maksim lifts both hands lazily. “I withdraw.”
I point one finger at Tatiana without turning fully away from Piotr. “Corner. Pout quietly.”
“Fine,” Tatiana says with a disgusted little huff. “But if he dies of boredom, that’s on you.”
Her ridiculousness almost softens my mood.
Almost.
Then I look at Piotr again and remember why we’re here. The bounty is no longer a rumor. Arseniy warned me first, then Kai confirmed movement through two independent channels. Now Piotr is sitting in my cellar with pieces of the same story scattered through payment records, burner numbers, and courier whispers, all pointing toward a hit placed somewhere inside the Five Families.
Helena Byrne’s name surfaced twelve hours ago. That does not mean Helena ordered it. It could mean someone wants her name attached, or someone close to her has moved without understanding how loud footsteps sound in my world.
Either way, I have questions, and Piotr has an unfortunate proximity to answers.
I crouch in front of him, resting my forearms on my knees. “You don’t have to know Helena Byrne personally,” I tell him. “You only have to tell me who told you to use her channel.”
His gaze darts toward Tatiana.
I sigh. “Looking at my sister for help is brave, but deeply fucking stupid.”
Tatiana beams from the corner. “Thank you.”
Piotr swallows. “I heard a name.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kai look up from the tablet.
I keep my face still. “Say it.”
Piotr’s lips move once without sound. His fear is becoming inconvenient.
I reach up and gently pat his bloodied cheek. He shudders. “Piotr,” I say, almost kindly, “I’m in a bad mood, and you are not a charming enough man to improve it. Say the name.”
My phone rings, and the sound slices through the room with obscene timing. Every head turns except mine.
