Page 55 of City Of Thieves

As the seconds tick by, I start to wonder if this is one wall that can’t be scaled, and then she finally closes her eyes in defeat. “He owns me, Renzo. From the moment we met. From the first time he...”

She falters, and my fists clench.

“He told me it was out of revenge for what my family had done to his in the past. How we were all going to pay for my grandfather’s sins...” She pins me with a haunted stare. “He made me leave school, he forced me to turn my back on my family. When I became pregnant, he insisted I have the baby in Moscow, and then he took her away from me.” She stops, twisting her lower lip between her teeth.

I wait patiently.Impatiently.This confession is five years in the making. It’s a dying ember that needs encouraging, but there’s not enough Hail Marys in the fucking world to save the man who did this to her.

Give me his name, Tatiana… Just give me his name.

“He said he’d harm her if I didn’t do what he said, and then he sent me back to New York without her. I needed to pay him a million dollars a year otherwise we’d both end up dead.”

“Your father,dolcezza,” I grit out, struggling to comprehend the shitstorm she’s had to deal with. “He’s one of the most dangerous men in the world—”

“Shame has its own set of prison bars.” She cuts me off sharply. “And Konstantin made damn sure he built them out of steel. He made me do things…” She glances away again. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. There’s never a logic when you’re a kid yourself and desperate.I thought about telling Seb last year, I was so close to cracking, but Konstantin is always one step ahead of me… He sent me a picture of Anastasia with both her legs in casts. He’d broken them himself to punish me.” She catches a sob in her hand.

Konstantin.

I have a new kill target now, and he’s vying for the top spot.

“I think he’s the Russian you’re looking for, Renzo... I think we’re more connected than you think.”

The world stops spinning.

The roots of our family trees are twisting together again.

It’s blood and bone.

It’s heartache and sacrifice.

It’s too fucking easy.

“Throwing random names out to save your brother’s neck doesn’t fly—”

“Who do you think told me to buy the painting?” she says, looking hurt.

I pause. “So, where is he?”

“I don’t know,” she admits with a sigh. “He moves around constantly. He keeps Anastasia trapped in Russia, but he has businesses and houses everywhere.”

“Bratva?”

Another one of Vasily’s lies.

“Yes.”

“What makes you so sure it’s him?”

“Because I know how much he wanted the painting. He had another agent lined up to make the purchase, but he replaced him with me just to piss you off. He knows who you are, Renzo….”

“And?” I say, hearing the cliffhanger in her voice.

“And his last name is Belov,” she finishes quietly. “Konstantin Belov.”

Well, isn’t this day full of fucking surprises?

Before I know it, I’m climbing out of the car and driving my fist into the front hood, again and again, until my blood stains the paintwork.

“Fuck!”