Page 56 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

Straightening up, I meet his gaze head-on.“Shelby, I talked to Tommy about this the other day.Alexia’s told me everything she knows.Igor’s trafficking operation, his alliances with the cartel.She’s been forthcoming.”My tone is clipped, brooking no argument, but Shelby’s expression hardens.

Shelby’s gaze wavers momentarily, his mouth pressing into a thin line.There’s a beat of silence before he continues, his voice quieter, as though bracing himself.“Right.”His arms cross defensively, yet there’s a hint of apology in his tone.“And you believe her?Just like that?”

Tommy shifts, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting mine again, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“Damn it, Dave.”Tommy’s voice cracks on my name, sounding almost defeated.He runs a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping for a split second.“You always see the best in her… but sometimes, I wonder if that’s gonna cost us everything.”

The image of Alexia’s scars pops up in my mind, her haunted eyes as she spoke of Igor’s cruelty.The desperation in her voice that night still lingers like a shadow.She wasn’t acting.She can’t fake that kind of terror, and I know that even if my brothers refuse to see it.The issue being that I am not going to tell them about Igor’s physical abuse because it bears no importance to our discussions here.

“She’s not playing me,” I bite out, my voice cold and certain.“Igor’s intentions go far beyond petty vengeance.She’s in danger, and if you think for one damn second I’m letting her or Rose suffer because of him, then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding.Shelby’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push further.His fingers curl into a fist, his knuckles white, as if restraining himself.For a moment, I think he might say more, but then he exhales, letting his hand drop, the unspoken words hanging between us.

Tommy gives me a hard look, his gaze narrowing.He won’t say it aloud, but he’s concerned.Beneath all his bravado, he knows the stakes, he knows what it means if we’re wrong.

Wanting to dive into more important issues, I run my hands along the smooth edge of my mahogany desk before speaking.“The other night, I started going through Dad’s old notes, the ones he passed to me when he retired.They had fragments and hints of what Sergei and Oleg did back in the day.Nikolai’s hack turned up more.Between Dad’s notes and what Nikolai managed to copy off Igor’s men, I’ve pieced together most of it.”

Both Tommy and Shelby go still, their eyes fixed on me.

“Oleg and Sergei,” Tommy says, running a hand through his dark hair.“Sergei was Igor’s dad and Oleg was his uncle.They joined the early iteration of Syndicate, right?”

“Correct,” I confirm.“They helped establish trade routes, build alliances.But then things shifted.Dad documented their betrayal in detail.”

Shelby leans in, his gaze sharp.“I knew they turned on us, but Dad had proof?”

I nod, grim.“What’s worse is, even with all Dad’s notes, there’s intel here he might never have seen.Nikolai’s hack uncovered recent plans—things Igor’s putting in motion now.Dad was careful, but it’s like the Vasilyevichs never stopped scheming against us.”

Tommy mutters a curse under his breath, eyes flashing.“Those bastards used us, clawing their way up.”

“Exactly.They used our network as a stepping stone, manipulating alliances to their advantage.Sergei’s ambition was boundless—he’d claw out anyone in his way.Oleg… he was the ghost, the one doing the dirty work in the shadows.”

Shelby tilts his head, frowning.“And Dad knew all this?”

“Yes.He left notes that read more like a warning than a record, like he knew I’d face them someday.”I pause to catch my breath.The weight of it all squeezes my lungs.“He even referred to Sergei as ‘a snake in the grass.’He must’ve known how ruthless they were—how they’d twist anything to their advantage.”

A heavy silence falls, each of us absorbing the information and how it changes our scenario moving forward.

I finally add, “Dad’s files went deep.It was like he wanted me to understand the enemy in every brutal detail.The entries didn’t just record betrayals—they painted a vivid picture of each Vasilyevich brother’s brand of ruthlessness.Sergei had a genius for manipulation.He was like a puppet master who would pit allies against each other, sowing discord with the deft precision of a surgeon.”

“Igor takes after his father,” Tommy interjects.

I nod, remembering Dad’s notes.Sergei’s silent, bloody power grabs were infamous within certain circles.He’d organize accidents, or frame power players for crimes they’d never commit, causing other factions to turn on each other in a ruthless game of survival.Those who didn’t understand his games found themselves isolated, their reputations shredded, their alliances broken, left with nothing but a trail of whispers and dead allies.

To my brothers, I say, “Sergei preferred this shadowy kind of power to the brute force of the streets.According to Dad, Sergei enjoyed the control to twist any situation in his favor while keeping his hands immaculately clean.”

“Motherfucker,” Shelby growls.

Tommy and I exchange glances, agreeing with our brother.

“Oleg, on the other hand, was the darker reflection of Sergei’s mind,” I continue, standing up to pour us whiskey from the side table against the wall.“He executed plans with an icy, almost clinical detachment.He was known for his specialty—quiet eliminations.He went after Sergei’s enemies like a ghost in the night.”

Returning to my desk, I hand my brothers their glasses before sitting down and taking a sip from mine.I lean back, milling over Dad’s notes.He’d written that when someone needed to disappear—no loose ends, no trace left behind—Oleg was the one they called.He made people vanish, removing obstacles so efficiently that the targets’ own families would wonder if they’d ever existed.

Bouncing my gaze between Tommy and Shelby, I wrap up the story of Oleg, “Bodies would show up months after someone disappeared, if at all.That meant that, by that time the scent of Bratva involvement had already grown cold.Dad commented that Oleg’s touch was so refined, so chillingly precise, that the Syndicate would speak his name in hushed tones, as if summoning a legend or a curse.”

Shelby’s gaze sharpens.“Bet they wanted the Syndicate leadership.”

“Precisely,” I grunt, disgust burning my stomach at the thought of the Vasilyevich brothers running our Syndicate.“Dad was chosen instead.Sergei and Oleg’s plans for a coup failed, but barely.They nearly turned the Syndicate into a bloodbath to take over.”

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