“She wants the Bratva,” Lev says. “The Bratvas, rather. Both of them.”
“No,” I say. “That’s not all she wants. There’s something else.”
“Revenge,” Yulian offers.
I give my brother a nod. “Correct. But she’s not going to get any of it.”
“The bigger question is, how the hell do we get our hands on her?” Lev says. “She’s evaded us for a goddamn month now.”
“I’ve questioned the men,” Yulian says. “There doesn’t seem to be a mole in the ranks, at least not that we can suss out.”
“And yet…”
“Brother,” Yulian says in a quiet voice, “I think we need to start talking to the staff. Think about it: they’re the silent, invisible part of the house. Always around but never considered.”
Lev looks mildly impressed as he turns his gaze on me. “He has a point.”
“I’ve vetted each and every member of my staff,” I snap. “None of them can be the mole.”
“We need to be doubly sure, Anton,” Lev says. “Yulian’s logic is sound. And I don’t think any of the men have betrayed their oath to the Bratva.”
“Not one?”
“Not one,” Lev says. “These are men who bear the mark and live or die by it. They’d never go against their own don. Especially not for that mad bitch.”
“Alright then, question the staff,” I say. “But be discreet. If anyone throws up suspicious vibes, bring them to me.”
“Understood,” Lev says, getting to his feet. “I’ll get started now.”
“Check on our spies first,” I instruct him. “I want to see if anyone has heard anything from her.”
Yulian shakes his head. “Doubtful. Everyone still thinks she’s dead.”
“Well, it’s time to disabuse them of that notion.”
Yulian looks surprised. “You want to out her?”
“Why not? We have nothing to lose.”
Yulian nods. “I’ll make sure it’s done.”
“Good.”
Lev heads out, but Yulian lingers for a moment. He sits opposite me, his shoulders squared and his body language tense. “This may get a lot messier,” he says, as though he needs to prepare me.
“I’m counting on it.”
He nods solemnly. “Leave it to me, sobrat.”
“Leave it to you?”
“I’m only thinking of Jessa,” he says. “If you die, her world ends. If I die, no one will mourn me.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong about that.”
Yulian looks sad for a moment. He puts his hand on my shoulder and nods. “Thank you, brother.”
“Go now,” I say. “Be my right hand.”
“I will. Always.”