Page 61 of The Enforcer's Vow
"Yes."
The single word carves a hole in my heart I know will never be filled again, matching the ones whereMamochkaandBatyaonce dwelt. I've been holding on to the hope that maybe it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe Damir was innocent in all of this. But the certainty in Maksim's voice leaves no room for doubt.
"He was a hitman for the Karpin crew," Maksim continues. "He's been working for them for years, feeding them information about Bratva operations. The soldier who died wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit."
I sit up, pulling the sheet around myself. "How do you know?"
"Because he murdered my cousin," Maksim says quietly. "Made it look like an overdose, but we found the connection."
The world tilts around me. Alexei Petrov—I remember the name from the funeral announcements, the black armbands that the men wore for weeks afterward. A young man, barely twenty-five, killed in what everyone believed was a random overdose. But it wasn't random. It was Damir.
"I need proof," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Maksim studies my face carefully. "Are you sure you want to see who your brother really is?"
I nod slowly, even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to stop, to go back to not knowing, to pretend that the man who raised me isn't a killer. "Yes."
He leans over and kisses me, soft and lingering. "Don't go anywhere," he says against my lips. "I'll be back in thirty minutes."
I watch him get dressed, pulling on dark jeans and a black T-shirt that emphasizes the lean lines of his body. He buckles his shoulder holster over the shirt, and the sight of the gun reminds me of the world we live in, the violence that surrounds us even in quiet moments like this.
"Maksim," I call as he reaches the door.
He turns back to me, eyebrows raised.
"Be careful," I say.
Something in his expression softens. "Always am."
After he leaves, I lie in his bed and stare at the ceiling. I press my hand to my still-flat stomach and try to imagine what it willbe like to bring a child into this world of secrets and violence. A world where my brother can be guilty of the worst imaginable crimes but I don't even know it.
I know what I saw in the desk drawer at Maksim's penthouse apartment. I know he's coming back with definitive proof that Damir is a murderer, and yet I can sleep in Maksim's bed, fuck him like it doesn't matter… Christ, I'm having his baby and he's no better than Damir.
But Maksim has never lied about who he is, and Damir has never once been honest with me.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, retrieved by the maid and placed there, and I reach for it without thinking. Damir's name appears on the screen, and my heart lurches.
"Hello?"
"Zoya." His voice is ragged, desperate in a way I've never heard before. "Thank God. I've been trying to reach you for hours."
"Damir, I can't?—"
"I know about the pregnancy," he says, cutting me off.
My blood turns to ice. "How do you know?"
"I have sources. The same sources that tell me you're in more danger than you realize." He pauses, and I can hear him breathing heavily. "Zoya, if that baby is all that's left of our family, then you can't tie it to the Vetrov name. You can't let them claim it."
My throat tightens. "What are you talking about?"
"Meet me," he says urgently. "Please. There are things I need to tell you, things you need to know before it's too late."
"I can't leave the estate. There are guards?—"
"The old church on Nevsky Prospect. The one whereMamochkaused to take us when we were children. Do you remember?"
I do remember. The small Orthodox church with the blue domes, where our mother would light candles and whisper prayers in a language I didn't understand. We haven't been there in years, but I can still picture every detail of the interior.
