Page 16 of The Russian Retribution

“If you get caught, we might never learn the truth about what happened that night. And if you delay this any longer, Anastasia could destroy everything. She’s dismantling everything her father ever built, and for what? Some broken moral compass?”

This is where we differ.

Where we have always differed. As a teen, learning that human traffickers had snatched my sister was a hard pill to swallow knowing that the entire Remizova empire was built on precisely that. Learning that was also the real reason I threw myself into the military, unable to cope with knowing I now worked in the business that killed my sister. But Viktor made some good points and kept me away from most of that work. He raised me, paid for my schooling and my healthcare. He’s taken care of me.

I can overlook the family business, and I have no qualms about Anastasia doing everything she can to end it.

“She has her own plans and her own vision,” I say quietly. “You talk like you know for a fact that she’s guilty. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No.”

“Because if there is, it could end this investigation right here. We can take it to the families and have her ousted for her crime.”

“No,” Viktor mutters, slamming his glass down. “I have no proof.”

Viktor lifts his eyes to meet mine. His stare is hard and cold, but he has no rebuttal. Grief and anger drive him, but one thing is clear.

With Anastasia in charge, the skin trade is a thing of the past for us.

“Then you have to trust me. I will find out who killed Sergey, no matter the cost, and I will ensure they see justice. But you have to prepare yourself for the chance that she had nothing to do with it and this new direction for the family is our future.”

6

ANASTASIA

Every year, the Remizova gala is one of New York’s largest—if notthelargest—galas. It’s been a yearly tradition started by my great-great-grandparents and has served as a hub for my family to make significant charitable donations, gaining huge favor in the public eye.

My father always told me that it was one of our most essential duties because the only reason we’re able to operate so smoothly between other families is because, to the public, we’re a generous family. I’ve attended the gala every year since I was old enough to walk. Each year, I’ve shaken countless hands, smiled endless fake smiles, and answered too many questions about my dating status and how I’m running out of time to have a child.

Last year’s gala was the worst. Not because I had to field questions about when I would make my father proud and marry a good husband or because three tables ended up with food poisoning thanks to bad shrimp. It was the worst because I learned my father had sunk to unthinkable depths with the family business.

I overheard him on a call talking about the expansion of our empire and to this day, I can still recall the sickly chill that consumed me when I realized he was talking about trafficking children.

Children.

The skin trade is horrific enough, but learning that my father had no qualms about adding children to the mix completely destroyed my shaky faith in that man. So I started digging. It didn’t take me long to find the plans he’d laid out for this business expansion, and I made copies of them all. Once I learned who he was planning this with, I intended to present them to the other families.

Only, I never found out the identity of his partner, and the original plans were nowhere to be found.

And since his death, this mysterious partner has vanished.

I haven’t stopped searching because Viktor’s words from a few weeks ago ring in my ears. If I’m not careful, my family could crumble and someone worse will take our place, which leaves the world wide open for that mysterious partner to step in and implement my father’s twisted plans.

For all I know, they’re the ones behind the assassination attempt, so I can’t let that happen.

I need a plan.

“You busy?” Soft knuckles rap against the door of my office, derailing my trip down memory lane.

I push back from the desk and massage lightly at my temples. “Come in.”

Faina hurries in, closing the door behind her, and she shudders her shoulders in a wave. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Who does?”

“Viktor.” Faina stops when she reaches my desk. “Why do you even keep him around?”

“You know why. He’s a wealth of history and knowledge and he was my father’s underboss. No one knows more about my father’s dealings than him.”

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