I say nothing. I just kneel in the dirt and think about how I could’ve been so blind.
“His assumption was not the only thing that worked against him however,” Budimir continues. “I was careful and smart and above all, I was patient. I started poisoning him in doses so small it was nearly impossible to detect. As his condition deteriorated and doctors got involved, I made sure to find the right doctors, the ones that would tell him what I wanted them to, rather than the truth of what was happening to him.”
Each new revelation feels like a hot brand being pushed into my flesh. My restraints are tight and I can barely move in them, but I push them against the ropes anyway, leaving gnashes against my wrists as I apply more and more pressure.
“The two of you have run the Bratva together for four decades,” I point out. “Four fucking decades. He was your brother!”
“True enough,” Budimir admits. “And I regret the lengths I was forced to go to. But he was not fit to lead the Bratva.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I demand, taking that statement personally. “His name struck fear into everyone who heard it.”
“He built his reputation well. But he was not as ambitious or as ruthless as he should have been. Age and illness was making him weak. And the sicker he got, the more he spoke about you.”
I raise my eyebrows and hold my breath, unsure if I want to hear what was coming next.
“He was nervous of you,” Budimir says. “He was uncertain of how you might lead, but he was still convinced that you would rise to the challenge.”
His words slap me right across the face. I feel a strange sense of loss pass through me.
It makes me realize how little time I spent with Stanislav. How little I really knew about the man.
All our conversations inevitably turned into arguments. After a point, I had tried to avoid them altogether.
Perhaps if I’d put my pride aside, I might have been better able to know the man I was forced to bury.
“I knew I couldn’t hand the Bratva over to you,” Budimir goes on, darkness edging back into his tone. “You’re not fit to lead us. You’re not fit to lead me.”
I raise my eyes to his, wiping them of emotion first. “So that’s it, then?” I ask. “You didn’t want to take orders from your nephew.”
“I was insulted that Stanislav didn’t even consider the possibility that I might have more to offer than you,” he continues. “I have no sons, which means you would have inherited the Bratva in time.”
“After you.”
Budimir nods. “After me. I floated the suggestion one morning some years ago when you were still in the throes of grief over your woman. You had been a boundless disappointment and I felt sure that Stanislav would see the wisdom in my suggestion.”
“He denied you,” I guess.
“Denying me would have been one thing,” Budimir grits. “He treated it as a joke. Practically laughed in my face.”
I grind my teeth. Mistake after mistake after mistake that I made. It cost my father his life.
It’s about to cost me mine.
“You still hear his laughter, don’t you?” I ask. Goading him is the only real weapon I have at my disposal at this point. I might as well go down swinging.
“Every single fucking day,” Budimir seethes.
My muscles clamp tight with fury, but I remain on my knees as adrenaline courses through my body.
My uncle blinks and looks around like he’s waking up out of a trance. “Enough. Where’s the girl?”
I don’t flinch. Don’t so much as blink as I glance up at him, my eyebrows knitting together.
“What?”
“The girl,” Budimir fills in impatiently. “Moreno’s daughter.”
“Oh,” I say like I’m just now understanding. “So you don’t have her?”