Page 50 of Brutal Union
I thought I killed it when I executed the families. When I spilled elder blood in the name of my mother and burned their houses to ash.
But I was wrong. This rot goes deeper than tradition. Deeper than family.
“Are you calling me back in?” He hisses, the heat from his breath makes my guilt curdle like rotten milk. “Do you want me to serve you?”
“No,” I whisper, pulling back. “I need a favor.”
“I don’t do favors for the Yakuza.”
“You will.”
“Not after they killed Duri.” Bhon grips me by the collar of my shirt, his eyes wide open, and teeth bare like he could rip my jugular out with just his fangs. “I will never-”
“Duri isn’t dead.” I whisper. “I sent him to Europe.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps, but the fire is faltering now. His grip stays firm, but something in his stare is unraveling.
“I know his name,” I say carefully, the air tight with tension. “Where he lives. Who raised him. I kept him off the books. Off the record. He thinksyoudied as well.”
Bhon doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. The pressure on my collar spikes, and for a moment I think he’s going to crush my trachea out of reflex. But I hold my ground.
“Tell me who sent the hit on Nadia,” I say, voice steady. “Not the name they gave you. I need the truth. Therealname.”
His eyes burn into mine, wavering between fury and something dangerously close to hope.
“I gave up everything for Duri,” he whispers, voice trembling like something inside of him cracked at the thought. “And if you’re lying?—”
“I’m not.”
“I’ll gut you.”
“You can try,” I murmur. “After you give me the name.”
Bhon doesn’t let go of my collar. Not yet. His eyes flicker—searching me for deceit like he’s dissecting my soul one cell at a time. And then, slowly, his grip slackens.
“Fine.” He breathes, backing away one step.
He turns from me, dragging a hand across his smooth slick back hair, that one loose strand still hanging across his temple.
“Boris Petrov,” he says.
The name cuts through the air like a gunshot, echoing in the tight space between us. “Are you sure?”
“I met him six months ago,” Bhon continues. “He was greying, still a huge hulking man, just in a shitty grey coat and missing some teeth.”
“Where?” I demand.
Bhon’s jaw flexes. “An apartment in Matsuyama. Fifth floor. He didn’t have the money to afford me, but knew a man namedDraco who did. He gave me Nadia’s picture, and told me his name was Nikolai.”
Matsuyama. A quiet, coastal city on the island of Shikoku.
“And you accepted knowing he was lying about who he is?” I ask.
He turns slowly. “It’s not my business who someone is, and besides, I am the best in the business, according to him. He needed me because I have never missed a target.”
My stare hardens. “But you missedthisone.”
Bhon smiles, but there’s no pleasure in it.
