Page 136 of Devotion

“He told us what has happened. What he did. And why.”

Pyotr rubs his face, his eyes never leaving my face. “I need to hear this tale.”

“We will tell it. But first, I must know where you were.” There is a wedge between us, and he sees it. He sees my uncertainty. “Where were you? We traveled halfway around the world, thinking they took you. And you were where? In hiding? Where were you when they killed my brother?”

Pyotr’s face crumples, his head hanging. In shame, grief.

“I should have been here. I would have been. Fyodor reached us with the news. He is still recovering from his injuries. I sent a driver for him earlier.”

“He said someone took you.”

“Someone did. I was returning from a meeting with the head of the port authority, discussing the strange activity, how we might increase security. I was at the back gate. Matvey was standing at the back door on the hill, shouting for me to run. I did not see the men rushing me. They overpowered me.”

“Who?”

“A contingent sent by the other five houses. Allkapitans.”

“Bratva?”

“Da.”

“And the rest of the council?” Ciro interjects before I can ask the million questions on my mind.

“Most of the council were away when they hit the compound. At home. Only Boris was here. He did not survive.”

“I hope he gave them hell,” I mutter. I never got along with the old man. No one did. But he was one of us.

“Who do you think blew up the main hall? They stormed it to ransack our intelligence, our cash on-site. Fifty Mocro he took with him, the old bastard.”

“Vashe zdorov’ye,” Ciro barks, nodding, raising his glass. Where did he get…?

Never mind. At least he is starting to like vodka.

“Da,” I agree.

“I am so sorry, my Vanya. They will pay for what they did.”

“That is the other reason we went to Morocco, Papa. But there is so much more…”

“We must be quick. The council of the other clans will arrive shortly.”

Feeling rushed and a bit out of sorts, I fumble for words. What could be more important than hearing out his daughter?

“The short version is that Abas retaliated, killed the other leaders. He let us live to come tell you that he is keeping their territory as long as you stay in yours.”

“Ha!” Pyotr bellows, slapping his palms on the table. “Let him try.”

Shaking my head, I implore my uncle, the man who is like my father, to listen to reason. Quickly I fill him in on an abbreviated version of our journey, our brush with death. Worry and anger flash in my papa’s eyes throughout, not to mention shock and more than a little awe. And a bit of pride.

Ciro fills in details where he can, leaving out the meeting with his brother. That is a discussion for another time.

“He has anarmy, Papa. And assassins who eliminated every Bratvapakhan!”

“But not me. I refused to meet with him. I warned the others. Now, all the Bratva across the country want to join. As one. Behind me. So we have an army as well.”

The breath is knocked from my chest.

There has never been such a union. Under one leader. With that many men, organized…we might just stand a chance. But I know Abas will not give up so easily.

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