Belov’s face has gone dark with rage. “Who was it? Tell me who the fuck it was!”
The nurse pulls the gun away from Willow’s head and aims it at Belov.
“It was me,” she says.
Then she shoots.
Willow curves her body over Pasha and runs to the corner of the room, away from the action.
Belov is lying on the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. The nurse shot to wound, not to kill.
In the excitement, he dropped his gun. I kick it out of his reach.
“Surprise, motherfucker,” I whisper, enjoying the way his expression is twisting between rage and fear.
“It… it can’t be…”
“Luda,” I say, gesturing for her to come forward. “Why don’t you come and introduce yourself?”
She walks over and stands at my shoulder. The gun is still in her hand, steel in her eyes. After almost a decade of lying in wait, she’s seething with rage.
“My name is Luda Yolkin,” she says. “My son’s name was Petyr Yolkin. Do you remember him?”
Belov stares at her blankly, his eyes shifting from her face to the gun in her hand.
“Petyr,” Willow breathes from where she’s crouched in the corner. “He was your brother’s second in command.”
I nod. “Pavel’s closest friend and his most trusted Vor.” I turn to Belov. “You killed him along with my brother the day you decided to spit on the Bratva code of honor.”
Spartak’s eyes go wide as they veer between Luda and me. “You… you’re his mother?”
She gives him one curt nod. “I have been waiting for the day when I could stand before you and watch the life drain from your eyes.”
He shakes his head. “I can… I can offer you money…”
“Money?” she asks in disgust. “You think money can make me forget how you murdered my son? My only child? Money can’t bring him back. And it won’t save you now.”
I glance back over my shoulder. “Willow,” I say, “take our son to the next room.”
She frowns. “But—”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Our eyes meet, and she nods. Once she slips through the adjoining door into the next room, I turn back to Belov.
I squat down in front of him, savoring this moment.
“Do you know who Ariel was? Who she really was?” When he doesn’t answer, I continue as though he had. “She was Pavel’s fiancé. Their wedding day would have been a month after that meeting.”
“I killed the bitch,” he snarls, still twitching with anger and agony. “I don’t need to her hear fucking sob story.”
I nod. “She should have been here for this. But in her honor, I’ll make your death as painful as she would have.”
“You motherfucking—”
I pull out my knife. “This blade belonged to my brother. I carry it with me always.”
A single slash downward is all it takes to split his stomach open. He groans, but it all happens so fast he doesn’t have time to cry out.
I hand the blade to Luda. “I owe you a great debt, Luda.”
“I was the one who came to you, Leo,” she reminds me, taking the blade from my hand. “You owe me nothing.”
“Take your pound of flesh. But make sure he stays alive.”
“Don’t worry,” she assures me. “I am a nurse, after all. I know how to keep a man from dying.”
I savor the fear on Belov’s face as Luda descends on him. But I don’t need to stay and witness his pain. It’s enough to know that he will suffer.
I leave Belov with Luda and move into the next room.
Willow is standing by the window, but she’s ignoring the view and staring at the door. Waiting for me.
“Leo,” she breathes.
I shut the door and walk towards her. “Did you ever doubt me?”
“There were moments,” she admits. Then she smiles. “But never again.”
“Good.”
“Is it true?” she asks.
“Every word.”
“So, Semyon… he was working with you?”
“He was.”
“He wanted you to take over the Mikhailov Bratva?”
“So long as I took care of his granddaughter,” I say.
“I thought he was a monster.”
“He was a monster,” I tell her. “But he died an honorable man. This was his attempt at making amends.”
A tear falls down her cheek. “I wish I knew, before…”