Page 80 of The Russian's Revenge Bride
“Oh, I know exactly why you’re here.” He took a slow sip, savoring it. “You heard what Beaumont and I discussed. About his daughter. About what needs to be done.”
“She’s my wife.”
“She’s a liability.” Dmitry set down his glass and faced me fully. “And you’re too blinded by pussy to see it.”
I felt rage flare hot in my chest, but I kept my voice level. “You’re working with Beaumont. Selling out the Bratva.”
“Selling out?” He laughed, the sound echoing off the suite’s walls. “No, my friend. I’m building something better. Something stronger.”
“By betraying Rafael? By betraying me?”
“By replacing you.” The mask finally slipped, showing the rotting ambition underneath. “Do you know how long I’ve watched you play Rafael’s golden boy? How many years I’ve waited for my chance to show him what real leadership looks like?”
I stepped closer, gun never wavering. “So you decided to work with our enemies?”
“I decided to work with anyone who could help me get what I deserve.” His voice turned bitter. “Europeans, Caribbeans, Mexicans. They all pay well for Bratva secrets. And they all respect strength more than sentiment.”
“You’ve been leaking our operations.”
“Every shipment. Every deal. Every move you make.” He spread his arms wide, proud of his betrayal. “I know everything, Maxim. And I’ve been trading that knowledge for loyalty.”
“Your own criminal empire.”
“My future.” He moved closer, close enough that I could smell the vodka on his breath. “When you’re dead, Rafael will need someone he can trust. Someone with connections. Someone who can clean up your mess.”
I backhanded him with the gun, the metal splitting his cheek open. He stumbled backward, blood streaming down his face, but kept that goddamn smile.
“You think Rafael will choose you after he finds out you’re a traitor?”
“Rafael won’t find out anything.” Dmitry wiped blood from his mouth, spreading it across his fingers. “Because you’ll be too dead to tell him.”
I hit him again, this time with my fist. The crack of his nose breaking was satisfying as fuck. He dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his ruined face.
“Wrong answer.” I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back so he had to look at me. “Tell me about the anonymous tip.”
“What tip?” The words were slurred through his broken nose and split lips.
I pressed the gun against his temple. “Prague. Six years ago. Someone gave us information about Beaumont being behind the ambush.”
His eyes went wide for just a moment before that smug look returned. “That was me.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I felt something cold settle in my stomach. “What did you say?”
“I said that was me.” Blood bubbled from his mouth as he spoke. “I gave you that tip. Led you right to Beaumont like a good little puppet master.”
“Why?” The word came out raw.
“Because I needed you focused on the right enemy.” He tried to laugh, ended up coughing blood across my shirt. “I needed Beaumont desperate enough to work with me. And I needed you angry enough to make mistakes.”
I let go of his hair and stepped back, processing what he’d just told me. Everything. Every move we’d made for the past six years had been orchestrated by this piece of shit.
“The Prague ambush?”
“Not my work directly, but I knew it was coming.” He struggled to his knees, swaying slightly. “I let it happen. Figured it would kill you both and clear the path for me.”
“Our men died.”
“Casualties of war.” He shrugged like he was discussing the weather. “I miscalculated. You both survived. So I had to try a different approach.”