4

Zakh

Akim smoothed down his suit jacket, pompous as ever. "Uniting with the Aslanovs will bring strength in numbers with more forces."

I furrowed my brow, hating that he would talk about this in front of a spy. "Those are just rumors. No alliance will form between the Antonovs and Aslanovs."

Mikhail had mentioned talking with Sergei Aslanov and entering negotiations with him, but nothing had happened from those chats yet. Still, speaking about this union in front of the Italian was careless.

"I'm not sure I'd trust the Aslanovs, anyway."

Akim sneered. "That's not your call to make."

"The Aslanovs have a long history of lying," Desmier added.

"It's already a done deal." Akim shoved one hand in his pocket, tumbling his keys with his fingers in an annoying jingle. "I'm marrying the eldest daughter, Alisa Aslanov. Our marriage will solidify and celebrate the alliance that will pave the way for our critical shipment."

Now the spy really would have to die. I couldn't believe my cousin would speak about our biggest shipment to date. The sheer number of arms and contraband we were supposed to receive would be a boon in revenue. Mentioning it in front of this Rossini had just guaranteed his death.

"Father demanded this marriage happen to go with the agreement. The Aslanovs will get a portion of our arms, and they will grant us use of their Colver docks."

Akim wasn't talking out of his ass. We'd been hoping to take over or secure the Colver docks for decades. With so much of our business happening with transportation of goods and illegal product, we needed a better location to ship and receive. Those docks were in a prime location, not so easily accessible to the cops.

"And since my wedding will be here sooner than later," Akim said, smiling smugly at us both, "all the more reason to enjoy the whores at home while I can." He backpedaled, chuckling. "Not that I won't be able to when I've got Alisa for a wife. I've heard she's heavier than I care for, but..." He shrugged. "My mistresses can take care of me just as well."

Desmier and I shared a glance. Affairs and sleeping with mistresses were common practice in the bratva. We weren't judging him, not for that. But as he backed away, indifferent and uninterested in this spy here, we could judge him for being a pathetic leader.

"Don't call me and bother me with petty shit like this." Akim flung his hand to the air, like shooing away this incident. "Let the man go, and don't interfere with my plans for the night. Think you can handle that?"

He didn't wait for us to reply. After pushing the door open and letting it slam shut, he washed his hands of the incident.

"Why'd we even fucking call him?" Desmier growled.

"Protocol," I reminded him. "Or it used to be protocol to have someone from the top be involved with these things." Not since my father had been alive and operating under Mikhail's orders had anyone done things right. Protocol was an excuse of the past. Rules and expectations were forgotten and ignored.

The spy cleared his throat, pointing at the rope. "I–I–I understand. Your warning is clear. I won't come around here anymore."

I raised my knife again. His groveling irritated me, but my cousin's news pissed me off more.

"No," the Italian cried out as I approached. "He said to just warn me. To let me go." He lifted his shaking, bloody hand, minus two fingers. "You've warned me."

Desmier rolled his eyes and held the man secure. Without giving the fucker another chance to whine and beg, I sliced my blade across his neck. My brother kept him upright for a moment more. Then, as the blood puddled at our feet, he dropped the spy like the worthless sack of dead meat he was.

Unbothered by the kill and agreeing with my decision to disobey Akim, Desmier stepped away and began to wipe the blood from his hands. "Aligning with the Aslanovs will be a mistake."

I nodded, crouching to wipe my blade on the dead spy's pants. "It will be. I understand how an agreement like that could be beneficial." Selling arms was the nature of our business. Obtaining rights to the Colver dock would be an advantage. But with the Aslanovs? I had a bad feeling about this. My gut told me not to trust them. Like Akim said, it wasn't my choice to make. Mikhail had ruled with shitty decisions for a decade now, and Desmier and I, along with our three brothers, could do nothing but follow along.

"But not with them. Not the Aslanovs," I said as I stood.

He shook his head, snapping his fingers for a couple of soldiers to start cleaning up the mess the spy had made. They'd dispose of his body.

Instead of being rewarded for keeping the bratva on top of their enemies and catching a spy, we had been chastised and dismissed.

"I don't like this shift," I told Desmier as we headed out of the warehouse. "Mikhail doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, suggesting an alliance with Aslanov."

"He means it, too. He's only got Akim for an heir."

Arranging a marriage with the Aslanovs' eldest daughter signaled a permanent union between the families. Once they married, the Aslanovs would no longer be identified as our rivals but as our kin.

"I don't trust it." I opened the door Akim had left through, holding the door open for Desmier to go first.

"Me neither," he replied, scanning the alley we'd exited to.

I assumed many more of my brothers in the bratva would be with us on this sentiment. Until someone else was in power, these disastrous ideas would continue to bring us down. I wanted to think things could change for the better, but it didn't seem likely.

Because once Akim married his bride, there would be no way to backtrack out of whatever the Aslanovs were scheming to do.