40
ANTON
Yulian’s eyes widen, but before he can say anything, I rear back and slam my fist into my brother’s face. He crumples to the ground.
Jessa looks dazed. She turns slowly and looks down at Yulian. Blood streams from both of his nostrils. I felt his nose crack under my fist. It sounded like the closing of a door.
“Yulian?” Jessa gasps. “It… it’s not possible.”
“I didn’t suspect anything until a week ago. I knew there was a mole. I also knew that it was someone close to me. But when the checks on my staff came in spotless, I realized that I was giving the search too wide a berth. I needed to bring it in.” I look from Yulian to Lev. “And my inner circle consists of exactly two people.”
Lev turns to Yulian, his expression graver than I’ve ever seen it. “Is it true?”
Yulian tries to sit up, but his eyes are pinwheeling wildly in their sockets. When he doesn’t answer, Lev turns to Marina.
“How the fuck did you manage to turn him?”
Her expression is slack with defeat, but the moment there are eyes on her, she forces the confidence back into place. “You really think it was hard? He was the second son. Always underestimated, always talked down to, always pushed around. I made him see his real worth. I made him realize that he didn’t have to play second fiddle anymore. He could have everything. And I would be by his side for all of it.”
“That’s how you planned on controlling both Bratvas,” Jessa whispers. “Once Anton was gone, Yulian would have been the natural heir.”
“The men would never have followed you,” Lev growls, turning back to Yulian. “Especially not with this bitch by your side.”
She struggles against Lev’s grip, but he’s holding her tight. She twists against his hold and winces in pain.
She deserves much, much worse.
“Someone get him up,” I say, gesturing to Yulian. “I want him to look me in the eye.”
Two of my men come forward and force Yulian up to his feet. They have to hold him in place because he doesn’t look steady. I can see the indigo bruise starting to form around his nose, rippling just beneath his eyes.
“Three decades you’ve been at my side,” I growl. “My friend, advisor, and Vor. My brother.”
His eyes are glazed over. He probably has a concussion. But he does his best to focus on my face.
“Brother—”
“You will address me formally from now on.”
He hesitates, as though he’s not sure if I’m serious or not.
“If you need to be punched in the face again,” I add, “I’m happy to oblige.”
“Don Stepanov,” he says bitterly. “I was protecting her.”
“Marina?”
“Jessa,” he says insistently. “I was going to protect her and the baby.”
“But you were going to kill me?”
“It was the only way forward,” Yulian sighs, his dark eyes dropping. He’s wracked with guilt, and yet he went through with Marina’s mad plan anyway. “If we kept you alive, you would have come for me. For us. But Jessa and the child were innocent.”
“She would have killed them the first chance she got,” I spit.
“Like ten seconds ago!” Jessa says, jumping in. “When she almost killed me!”
“But she didn’t—because I stopped her,” Yulian argues.