Page 111 of Between Us

“How do we know about Anatoly’s uncle?” another Brigadier—Vova—asked after a moment.

“We found footage of Arsen Saroyan dragging the man down an alley the night of the murder. Anatoly already confirmed it was his uncle.” Roman nodded at Stepan. “Show them.”

Stepan procured his cell phone, playing the video Matteo had sent and passing it over to the man seated next to him. As each man in the room got to see the evidence of the Armenians’ involvement, Roman went on.

“Vitaly thought they could be trusted once another deal was struck. He thought he could profit from keeping both the Italians and the Armenians close. That was a mistake on his part. As we all know, Davit doesn’t play nice with others. It’s usually either his way, or a bloodbath. I don’t think he was too happy to let Vitaly dictate the conditions of the new deal, and it shows.”

That was only true to some extent. Roman knew he couldn’t tell them about Vitaly’s real intention of crossing both sides without also putting the spotlight on himself, even though he had never agreed with his father’s plan.

“Don’t get me wrong, Roman, I have no brotherly love for the Armenians,” Vova spoke again. “But are we fucking sure they’re behind this?”

“Yes,” Roman said firmly. He also couldn’t tell them the only proof he had was Matteo Rossetti’s word, though he was going to get the evidence he needed soon enough. “And we need to stop them before they can do more harm. The Italians will support us. I assure you our interests are mutual on that front.”

Silence fell over the room as the men absorbed the information being delivered to them.

“Oleg would’ve never done this.”

Strike fucking one hundred.

With clouded thunder is his eyes, Roman moved his attention on Nikolai. “What did you just say to me?”

The man had the good sense to go as white as a paper sheet as he realized the situation he’d put himself in. All eyes turned to him.

Oleg, as absent as he’d been in the past week, still managed to turn men against Roman. Not that it should have been too hard to do with Nikolai. He’d always been resentful of everything that wasn't his, and especially the privileged position Roman had been bestowed with from birth.

“I, uh...” Nikolai swallowed thickly and tugged on the collar of his gray shirt. “I said what everyone in this room is thinking. Just because you are married to that Italian girl, it doesn't mean you have to take their side. I don’t fucking buy it. I think they did it, and we’re making a mistake going after the Armenians.”

It was the asshole's final offense. Roman had had it with him. He stood, moving with measured steps. Sensing the danger coming his way, Nikolai sat up a little straighter in his chair as panic bled into his dark eyes.

“Rom—”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. Drawing his fist back, Roman punched him in the face so hard, he toppled over with the chair, landing on the floor with a deafening thud. The back of the wooden chair splintered from the force of the fall. He groaned loudly, and Roman had to hold himself back from smashing hisface in with his shoe until he stopped breathing.

“You’re dismissed from your position as Brigadier, as it is clear you lack the discipline to mind your fucking mouth around me. Dimitri will take your place.”

Roman knew he didn’t exactly have the power to make that decision yet, but he was going to do it anyway. As long as Oleg didn’t show his face to challenge him directly, he planned to act as interim, and no one could say shit about it.

“Roman,” Nikolai said thickly, struggling to stand up. “Fuck. I meant no disrespect.”

“Yes, you did. You have three seconds to leave this room before I remove you myself.”

Nikolai pushed to his feet, swaying with the movement. He hesitated, his gaze shifting from Roman to the other men in the room, and something close to hatred ignited in his gaze as he cradled his injured jaw.

Stepan stood from his chair and reached for his gun, aiming it straight at his head.

The other Brigadiers watched him apprehensively, though no one dared say a word. His reputation as one of Bratva’s most efficient killers preceded him, and with one simple gesture, he made it abundantly clear where his loyalty lay.

Seeing that no one intervened in his favor, Nikolai turned around and headed for the door with blood trickling from his mouth.

“Who else has something to say to me?” Roman challenged, going back to his seat.

Silence stretched across the room like a suffocating blanket of dread.

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, we can discuss a course of action.” He snapped his fingers atIgor. “Go get Dimitri. I saw him outside when I got here.”

Igor shot to his feet immediately.

Roman's anger dripped into his stomach. He gritted his teeth as a jab of pain shot right through his upper abdomen. Taking in a slow breath, he forced himself to keep a straight face. One of these days, stress, vodka and too much smoking was going to give him an ulcer.

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