I grit my teeth, trying to control the rage that roils through me at his words.
“My brothers,” Budimir says, standing up. “I invited you all here today to usher in a new era. My brother was a good don, but he was short-sighted. His ambitions were painfully… limited.”
Motherfucker.
As Budimir continues to parrot his agenda for a bigger and brighter future, I notice Guzik scanning the room.
He’s the most still of all the dons, and yet, his eyes are never stationary. They land on Adrik—and I see recognition pass across his face.
Then his eyes dart to Maxim, and the same thing happens.
Again with Alexei, and with Vasily, until they’ve crossed over all the waiters. All my men.
Then he looks at me.
Fuck. He knows something is up.
The question now is: what will he do about it?
My next move will depend on his.
“I have bigger aspirations—”
“Budimir,” Guzik interrupts, raising his hand slightly. He has at least four jeweled rings adorning his fingers.
My heart is pounding.
If he gives us away, it could all end here, as quickly as it started. I’ll be tortured and dumped in the Pacific. Esme will never know what happened to me. My son will never know his father.
All I can do is wait.
“Yes, Guzik?” Budimir says, frowning with annoyance. Clearly, he’s not happy about being interrupted.
“Your nephew…” he croons.
I tense. Every muscle on high alert. Watching, watching, watching...
“What about him?”
“You claimed he was dead,” Guzik continues. “But we never saw a body.”
“Is my word not enough?” Budimir asks.
Guzik shrugs. “I think it’s an important symbol,” he says. “There are still many among your faction that are loyal to him, no doubt.”
Budimir’s eyes narrow. “There are none who would follow him over me,” he claims. “He’s only a boy.”
“Some would argue he’s the rightful don of the Bratva,” Maggadino chimes in.
“I am the rightful fucking don of the Bratva,” Budimir roars, raising his voice with venom. “You know why: because I took what I wanted, the way all great dons do. As for Artem… my nephew is dead. And if he isn’t, then I will hunt him down and put a bullet in his brain myself.”
“So he’s not actually dead then?” Guzik presses.
Budimir grits his teeth, realizing he’s slipped. “There are reports that claim he might still be at large,” he admits. “But it’s a small problem. He doesn’t have the men or the strength to come against me. The Bratva made a choice after my brother’s death. They chose me.”
“Did they, though?” I ask loudly.
I step out from the shadows.