Page 25 of Hunted By the Masked BRATVA
"Don't talk about my father."
"Why not? He was a good man. Honorable. Weak, but honorable." Troskoy pockets his gadget. "He trusted the wrong people. Made the mistake of thinking loyalty meant something in this business."
"You mean he made the mistake of trusting you."
"Yes." He says it without shame. "And now you're making a similar mistake. Trusting Konstantin Grinevsky to save you."
Ice floods my veins. "How do you..."
"I know everything, Emilia." He gestures at my setup. "I know you've been in my files. Know you've drained my accounts.” His jaw ticks and I can see the barely contained fury clawing at the edges of his face. “Know you've been building a case against me." He steps closer. "And I know Grinevsky's been helping you. Quite the betrayal, considering he's supposed to be Leonid's best enforcer."
"Where is he?" I demand. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing. Yet." Troskoy's smile widens. "But Leonid's having a conversation with him right now. A conversation about loyalty. About consequences. About what happens to men who betray the Bratva for a dead woman."
No.
"Here's what's going to happen," Troskoy continues. "You're going to give me access to those files. All of them. Every piece of evidence you've compiled. And then you're going to delete every copy, every backup, every trace."
"And if I don't?"
"Then Konstantin Grinevsky dies. Slowly. Painfully. And I'll make sure you watch before I kill you too."
I stare at him, this man who murdered my family. This man who's haunted my nightmares for six years. This man who's now threatening the only person I've let myself care about since that night.
And I realize I have two choices. I can give him what he wants. Save Konstantin. Let Troskoy win.
Or I can call his bluff and hope I'm right.
"No," I say.
Troskoy's eyebrows rise. "No?"
"You heard me." I straighten, meeting his gaze. "You're not here because you're in control. You're here because you're desperate. If you had Konstantin, you'd have brought him. Used him as leverage. But you don't have him. You're hoping I'll panic and give you what you want."
One of his men shifts, gun steady on me.
"Careful, little girl," Troskoy says softly.
"You want those files because you know I can destroy you. But here's the thing." I smile, and it feels sharp as broken glass. "I already have."
I hit enter on my keyboard.
The files upload instantly. Every document. Every transaction. Every piece of evidence I've spent weeks compiling. Distributing to journalists, politicians, rival Bratva families, the FBI.
Troskoy lunges for me, but it's too late.
The damage is done.
"You stupid, little bitch," he snarls. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"I've destroyed you." I back away from him, toward the window. "By tomorrow morning, you'll be the most wanted man in Russia and the United States. Your partners will turn on you. The authorities will freeze what meagre assets you have left. You'll have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And right now while you’re here threatening me—" A laugh breaks through my words, disbelief that I’ve pulled it off, or hysteria, I’m not sure. “I’ve got contacts who are blowing up your three estates. They’ll be nothing but rubble within the hour. All of it. Gone.”
As if to prove my point, his phone buzzes in his jacket pocket.
“It’s over,” I add, rubbing the scar on my chest.
"Then I'll take you with me." He closes this distance between us and I know I’m cornered. A peace settles over me with such soft comfort that all I feel is calm. His hand closes around my throat, as he slams me against the wall.
