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“Four,” he says. “There were six. But two of them have since passed on.”

“You’ve met them?”

“I’ve met three of them,” he says carefully. “But I already knew them so I can’t really say I met them.”

I breathe in slowly and then guess. “My grandfather, my father, and your father.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. The silence tells me everything.

He takes another big swallow of vodka and I take the bottle from him, setting it aside.

My fingers tap the edge of the envelope. The weight of it pulses through my skin.

“As you’ve gotten that envelope, I’m guessing you met one of the other members.” Konstantin’s eyes land on the envelope that’s still lying on the desk like a ticking time bomb.

“The woman in the limo,” I mutter.

Konstantin glances at me and nods. “Who was she?”

“I didn’t meet her,” I continue. “They had a sack over my head. But her voice…” I shake my head. “She wasn’t just some council messenger. She gave orders like a fucking general. Cold. Deadly. Precise. For a while I thought she might be the Black Widow.”

“You think she’s the Black Widow?” he asks quietly.

I nod. “I did, and then I didn’t…” My brow furrows. “But I do have to wonder because the fucking bitch poisoned me.”

“What?” Konstantin booms, his eyes narrowing and darkening as his protective instincts kick in. “Jesus. Why haven’t you gotten checked out by a doctor?”

“Relax.” I gesture with my hand. At least I can tell he’s still got my back. “I was given an antidote when I was released.”

“I would feel a lot better if you got blood work done.” His eyes hold mine, a warning flashing in them. I know if I don’t get myself checked out I’ll probably get ambushed by a doctor or nurse intervention style.

“I’ll get to it,” I make a half promise.

I tap the envelope with two fingers. “Then tell me something, brother… what the fuck is in here that has you downing half a bottle of my best vodka? You didn’t even drink like this when Anna was murdered.”

His eyes snap to mine and darken. Konstantin’s jaw clenches. “I reckon this is going to go one of two ways.” He puts the glass on the desk and turns it idly. “You’re either going to react in an angry rage and kill me, or try to. Or… you’ll still beat the snot out of me, but you’ll realize I’d only have done what I did for a very good reason, knowing the cost of what I was doing.”

“More cryptic shit.” I reach for the envelope, then freeze. My pulse is thudding loud enough I’m sure Konstantin can hear it. “So in here is the straw that finally breaks a life long friendship—brotherhood that had already been fractured by a woman.”

“And is about to be shattered by another,” Konstantin mutters into his glass, swallows, and then looks at me. “Then you decide what you want to do with the information.” He reaches out one hand. “Do you win round one to move to the next stage of becoming the Dragunov Bratva King?” He holds out his other hand with the glass in it. “Or do you drop the crown?”

My eyes drop to the envelope and my hand moves toward it again, my fingertips running the seam of the envelope like I’m reading Braille. The urge to rip it in half or set it on fire in my trash can is almost unbearable.

Instead I flip it over, show him the handwriting on the back. My grandfather’s script—spidery, formal, precise.

“You said you got an envelope much like this one.” I tap it. “Did yours also come with a list of instructions?”

“I did.” Konstantin nods. “Like you, they lured me with my incessant need to find answers to a force that was driving me to do so. I was told the only way I would get my answers was to accept a mission that had the most dire consequences. Behind door two was the way out of the room with nothing.So I accepted the mission fully prepared to face whatever consequences, because it would finally give me the answer I sought to find and at least bring some peace to innocent people who deserved it.”

“And you can’t tell me who they are?” I lean back in my chair.

He shakes his head. “I would have lost you your crown. Just like if I had told you anything or broke my oath of silence about it—you would’ve lost your crown.”

“Fuck!” I run a hand through my hair. “So they held my Dragunov title, my birthright, over your head?”

“I think the test there was for me to trust in the council enough to know that they wouldn’t have asked me to do what they were about to if they didn’t have a fucking good reason for it.”

He pauses. “The picture inside my envelope was like a knife to the heart and I don’t know if it’s in yours, with the photo in here, but there was an SD card in there with video and conversation recordings on it.”