Page 95 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I nod. He’s right. The woman is in my home. She claims to have my child. She owes me answers. At the very least, she owes me an explanation.

But that will come in due time. Business demands my attention first. I stand slowly and look towards the cell door.

“What are we gonna do about him?” Matvei asks, jerking his head toward Murray.

“Do you think he has anything else to give us?”

“Only one way to find out.”

The two of us head back towards the cell. When I push the door open, Murray is sitting against the chair, his chin lolling against his chest.

I slam the door hard against the back wall. It clangs and echoes throughout the basement. He jerks his head up, his eyes unfocusing for a moment before falling on me.

“Please,” he begs, his voice shivering. “Please. I have nothing more to give.”

“Tell me something,” I encourage. “Anything useful. Anything you think might save your pathetic fucking life.”

“I don’t know anything! I’ve told you everything, I swear, I swear, I…”

I kneel in front of him. His eyes are liquid fear, frothing and wild. “I’d start to think a little harder if I were you, my friend. What was the last task you carried out for Astra Tyrannis? Before you and I ran into each other.”

He tenses, his eyes flitting between Matvei and I.

“I… that’s… I…”

I raise my eyebrows. “Murray, it’s in your best interests to cooperate with me.”

He understands the warning, but I can tell that his fear of Astra Tyrannis is greater than his fear of me. Which is both insulting and illuminating at the same time.

“Speak.”

“They expect loyalty,” Murray stammers. “Complete loyalty. Do you know what they do to the people that betray them?”

“It can’t be any worse than what I’ll do to you if you don’t answer me now.”

He shakes his head, his demeanor growing more and more agitated. He keeps looking around the room as though he’s scared of being watched. As though he assumes there’s Astra Tyrannis spies hidden in every crack and crevice.

It reminds me of Vitya—and his ridiculous claim that there are spies in my house.

“Murray,” I say, forcing him to look at me. “Tell me something: is there a spy in this house?”

He tenses instantly. I can feel Matvei’s eyes on the back of my head. “No.”

I frown. That answer came too fast. “Are you lying to me?”

“I don’t know!” He shakes his head. “They don’t tell me anything. I don’t have any real information. I just do what I’m told.”

He starts sobbing. A cry bursts from his lips, sending flecks of spit everywhere. It looks like he’s foaming at the mouth.

He starts rocking back and forth, his chair scraping the hard cement floor with the motion.

“He’s losing it,” Matvei says, coming forward. “We might’ve given him too much of the sodium thiopental.”

“Murray, stay with me, motherfuck—Oh, goddammit!”

As I’m speaking, he falls back, going down with the chair. It shatters on impact in the most unfortunate way possible—allowing him to get on his feet.

I’m not worried. I know I can take the man.

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