Page 154 of Ruins
“Give me a name,” Angelo demands.
Gabriel tilts his head slightly, feigning thought. “And what do I get in return?”
“A ceasefire between our families,” I offer, my voice flat. “Until we resolve this war with whoever isactuallybehind the attacks.”
Angelo glances at me, his jaw ticking with unspoken tension, but he nods. “Deal.”
Gabriel’s expression sharpens, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “Sarkisian. Arsen Sarkisian.”
“The Armenians?” Angelo’s confidence falters, just for a moment. “No fucking way.”
Gabriel nods, his face devoid of humor. “Ask Korsakov what he did to Sarkisian years back to make him an enemy.”
I want to ask more questions,to dig, but Angelo ends the meeting abruptly, his voice firm. “We’ll be in touch.”
As we leave, something catches my eye—a delicate face peeking out from behind a curtain. She’s a ghost of a woman, barely there, her features pale and fragile against the shadows of the room. Big brown eyes widen in fear as they meet mine, shimmering with a silent plea. Her trembling finger presses to her lips, begging for my silence.
I nod imperceptibly, leaving her and Kaya behind as we step into the night.
The drive back to my office is interrupted by Angelo's phone buzzing.
Our father is awake.
Angelo speeds to the hospital, without saying a word, his fingers white-knuckled on the wheel. I can see the tension playing across his face and I share it too.
We screech into the hospital parking lot, Angelo leaving the car running as we both sprint to our father’s room.
The sight of our father connected to so many machines is jarring, but his eyes are clear and alert. He looks at us with an unfamiliar intensity before Angelo can even get a word out.
“The Armenians,” he rasps, his voice barely audible over the steady beep of the heart monitor. “It was them.”
His confirmation validates Kaya’s information.
I step out of the hospital room, to call Korsakov, the beep of machines and Angelo’s murmured reassurances fading as I bring the phone to my ear. Maksim picks up after the first ring.
“Scythe,” Maksim says, his tone as steady and sharp as always.
“It’s confirmed. It was the Armenians.”
There’s a pause, and then Maksim swears under his breath. “Shit.”
“Kaya said you did something a couple of years back,” I press, my voice tight.
Maksim chuckles darkly, the sound grating on my nerves. “Kaya always did like embellishing stories. Don’t let his paranoia infect you.”
“Korsakov, what the fuck did you get us into?”
“Nothing,” Maksim replies smoothly, but the slight pause in his voice betrays him. “Kaya’s intel is shit.”
“Angelo knows something. If I ask him, what willhesay?”
“The same thing I just told you,” Maksim snaps, deflecting. “Did you find more on Miroslav?”
I grit my teeth at his evasiveness but answer anyway. “It’s not the Turks he made a deal with, that much is clear. Everything points to the Armenians.”
Maksim sighs deeply. “I just landed. Now that we know who we’re after, we can end this shit.”
“We can start by dissolving this fucking alliance,” I say, my voice laced with venom.
