Page 14 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

KOVAN

The man squeals when he sees us waiting for him in his apartment. Squeals, like a fucking pig. High-pitched and undignified, worse than a teenage girl at a horror movie.

When he realizes how pathetic he sounds, he clears his throat and drops his tone two octaves. “ Pakhan . I wasn’t expecting you.”

“That’s the point,” Osip replies from his position by the window. He’s blowing bubbles with his chewing gum. Smack. Smack. POP. Again and again.

Every time it pops, Vasily flinches.

I take in the man’s apartment with disgust. It’s a shithole of epic proportions—magazines stacked waist-high, moldy plates scattered across every surface, empty beer bottles forming their own ecosystem in the corner. The stench of old food and unwashed laundry makes my eyes water.

But it’s the newspapers that get my attention. Dozens of them, opened to the same section and piled beside a wooden crate that passes for a coffee table. The horse racing numbers.

“Interesting hobby,” I note, settling into his ratty recliner. The fabric clings to me with a wet slurp. I make a mental note to burn these clothes later.

Vasily taps his fingers against his thigh. “It’s nothing. Just something to pass the time.”

“Said every degenerate gambler in history.”

His shoulders go rigid. “Last I checked, gambling wasn’t against Bratva rules.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” I cross my legs and watch sweat bead on his forehead. “As long as it doesn’t compromise your duties. Or your loyalty to this organization.”

All the blood leaves his face.

“And judging by the state of this place,” I continue, “I’d say both have been compromised for quite some time.”

Vasily drops onto a folding chair that groans under his weight. “I can get back on track, boss. I swear?—”

“Don’t swear to me, Vasily. That’s the fastest way to lose your tongue.”

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sweat from his eyes without wiping it away. The effect makes him look like he’s having some kind of seizure.

“Losing your tongue isn’t the worst thing that could happen,” Osip adds helpfully. “Losing your head is much more permanent.”

That shatters what little composure Vasily had left. “Please, pakhan , I’m sorry. I’ll stop! I will; it’s just?—”

“You have a problem.” I pull out my gun and set it across my lap with deliberate casualness. “And I can either help you solve it, or I can rid you of all problems forever. Your choice.”

Osip makes a show of checking his watch. “Just shoot him, Kovan. This place smells like a morgue anyway.”

“No!” Vasily scrambles forward on his knees, hands clasped together. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Give me a reason not to.”

“I’m being blackmailed!” He spills everything in a panicked rush. “I had no choice. He made me do it.”

Aha. Now, we’re getting somewhere.

“Who made you do what?”

Vasily swallows hard, his throat working frantically. “I figured it was okay since he’s your most trusted vor .”

“Ihor Makhova is not my most trusted anything,” I say, biting off each word. “You miscalculated. Badly.”

“H-he found out about the gambling. I was placing b-bets with another family, some Spanish guys, Nico Perez’s crew, you know? Small stuff, I thought! Nothing that would hurt anyone!” His breathing is shallow, panicked. “But Ihor said he’d expose me as a traitor if I didn’t c-cooperate.”

“Let me guess—he paid off your debt?”

Vasily nods miserably.

“What’s he charging you in interest?”

“Fifty percent.”

Osip lets out a bark of laughter. “Jesus Christ, Vasily. I knew you were stupid, but this is next-level idiocy.”

“It was that or die,” Vasily whispers. “Ihor doesn’t make empty threats.”

No, he doesn’t. And that’s exactly why he needs to be eliminated.

I stand up and brush off my jacket. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to pay off your debt to Ihor. Zero interest. No threats of midnight executions.”

Osip stares at me. “Are you serious? He gets off scot-free?”

“Not quite.” I grab Vasily by the collar and haul him to his feet. “What I want in return is your complete and total loyalty. Think you can manage that?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

“Good. Because if you betray me again, I won’t just kill you—I’ll make it a fucking art form. Days, weeks of creative torture before I finally put you out of your misery. You’ll be begging for death long before I grant it. Understood?”

He nods so hard I’m surprised his neck doesn’t snap.

“Excellent. Now, you mentioned Ihor has dirt on other people. I want to know about that. Names, details, everything you know about his blackmail operation. Write it all down.”

“Whatever you need, pakhan .”

“That’s what I like to hear.” I release him and he stumbles backward onto his couch.

Vasily looks like he might kiss my feet. Since I have enough of his filth on me already, I head for the door before he can try.

By the time I reach the street, Osip is already pacing under a lamppost, muttering curses in Russian.

“You need to work on your people skills,” I inform him.

He turns on his heel to face me. “You just let that piece of shit off the hook!”

“Haven’t you heard the saying that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

“Yeah, from my ninety-year-old grandmother, but she had dementia. What’s your excuse?”

I lean against the building, amused despite everything. “You can’t buy loyalty, Osip. You have to earn it.”

“You should have put a bullet in his brain.”

“And accomplished what? He’d be dead, we’d have no intel, and Ihor would know we’re onto him.” I shake my head. “This way, we get a complete picture of his operation. We get leverage. Then we offer everyone a better deal and watch his support crumble.”

“What guarantee do you have that Vasily isn’t calling Ihor right now?”

“I’m a decent judge of character,” I say. Osip snorts at that, but I continue, “Plus, I planted bugs throughout his apartment while we were talking. Every call, every conversation—we’ll hear it all.”

That stops his pacing. “Goddammit, man, why didn’t you lead with that?”

I clap him on the shoulder. “Come on, big guy. Let me buy you a drink. The expensive kind.”

“Now, you’re talking.” As we climb into the Range Rover, Osip’s mood shifts back to business. “Once you’ve destroyed Ihor’s network and turned his people… what then?”

“What do you think?”

He whistles low. “You’re really going to do it.”

“I can’t afford not to. Vesper’s pregnant, Luka needs stability, and Ihor has made it clear he’ll never stop being a threat.” I start the engine, my jaw tight. “Removing him from the Bratva isn’t enough anymore. I need him gone. Permanently.”

“Looks like we’re planning a funeral,” Osip remarks as he settles back in his seat.

I nod. “Get your black suit ready.”