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I stare at the man. “Drive.”

There’s something different in us, in our ink, something old and violent. The Bratva blessing and the Bratva curse. The men sense it, knowing I’m in a killing mood, and pull away.

I drive.

Owen tells me the last thing I want to hear. “The files aren’t quite what I expected. I thought there would be more. I was led to believe there would be more. Somebody else told me about this drive and⁠—”

“Wait a second,” I snap. “I thought you gathered the information and encrypted it.”

He smiles sheepishly. “No, this was given to me. By somebody else in their organization.”

“So, you lied,” I growl, standing over Owen.

He sits in his computer chair, arms folded, glaring up at me. His large screen – one we paid for – is lit up behind him with rows of files.

He swallows. Then nods and meets my eye. He’s brave for a civilian. “I want to be part of this. I want to avenge my sister. I want to hurt that prick in any way I can. He tried to kill me! So, I lied. I lied because I thought there would be something more useful.”

“Who gave you the drive?” I ask.

His face goes pale.

“Your sister?” I say, reading the tragedy in his face.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Her boyfriend. He was one of Cordero’s men. He’s gone now. Fled the country. He thought giving me this was the same as fighting for her.”

I massage my forehead. “What is there, then?” I ask.

“I thought you’d be angrier.”

“Breaking your bones won’t help me,” I grunt. “I’ve got people to think about.”

“There’s nothing about the dealing,” Owen says. “Nothing outwardly criminal. But there are some strange payments and invoices to one hotel. The Delmaris Hotel. See here?” He spins to the computer, opening a folder and showing me the image of an invoice. “There are dozens of these, made out in strange amounts, at non-regular intervals. That reeks of Cordero using this place to pay people for illegal activity through legitimate means.”

Holy crap. Serena comes in clutch again.

“The Delmaris,” I say, nodding. “That’s his weakest point, then?”

“It’s where I’d start,” Owen mutters. “Listen, I want to help on this.”

“I may have you keep watch,” I tell him. “Hell, if you were going to bail, you would’ve done it by now.”

“I was getting ready for you to hurt me,” he says quietly. “I mean…” He waves a hand up and down. “And I know you’re mafia.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to do things differently. But don’t get it twisted. If you’re playing me for a fool or trying to run some scam, I’ll feed you your teeth. Don’t go anywhere.”

I leave the apartment, sitting in my car, opening and closing my hands into fists. It’s time I took control of this situation.

Hell. Maksim has sent me a text.

Maksim: Is everything okay down there?

I grit my teeth. Hard. I’ve spent my life leaning on my big brother… until I betrayed him. No. I can’t go down that road. I’ve got to redeem myself, and that means handling my business.

Would he even send people if I asked for help? I don’t want to do that. I want to be the man who makes things right on his own.

Nikolai: Nothing I can’t handle. Love to you and Lia.

I call Dmitry Sokolov, looking across the street at the apartment unit, empty except for the faint glow in Owen’s.