Chapter 19 - Vadim
VADIM
I take another drink and let the vodka burn down my throat as I listen to Danica whimpering in her sleep down the hallway.
For the past five days, she's been having nightmares about that attack.
I hear her sometimes, small whimpers and gasps that make my jaw clench, but she never remembers them when she wakes up.
I should be in bed sleeping with her, but the nightmares that plague her are my cross to bear too.
Marko's finger on the trigger, seeing how close I came to being too late…
I can't shake those feelings any more than she can, except that it boils over as rage for me and not fear.
So I sit here instead, going over everything I know about this hunt for Andrei, trying to find the thread I missed.
Milo? Popovi? has been stirring up trouble between the Balkan syndicates and the Gravitch name for months, feeding us bad intel, sending us chasing ghosts while the real target stays hidden.
And one of my own men was corrupt, in bed with Milo?, passing information back and forth like we were all playing some game. I can't believe I missed it.
It makes me stew and obsess that somehow, a man I vetted myself snuck into my company and I was blind to it.
Not only blind but deaf too. I can pretty much blame Boris's death on him, and the only condolences I was even able to offer his wife was a wad of cash, delivered by Nenad before he got shot.
Now he's recuperating and my numbers are dwindling.
But Jovan is gone now—ousted from every circle and cut off entirely.
And Nenad's collecting proof on all of this to bring to Yuri, documentation that will bury Milo? and help us later when the time comes.
Everything's falling into place like dominoes, but it doesn't change the fact that I've wasted eight months on a wild goose chase.
I drain the glass and pour another, watching the light from the television, though at this point it's a blur of colors. I'm getting drunk and my eyes stopped functioning hours ago.
The news anchor is talking about a bombing in Sarajevo now, and I wonder if any of it connects to our world. Probably—everything connects eventually in this business.
It's too late to be night time and too early to be morning, but I reach for my phone to update Yuri anyway. It's been a while and he deserves some news, not just to sit and wait for a bunch of nothing. So I shoot him a message and wait to see if he responds.
Vadim: 2:51 AM: You up?
I don't have to wait long. I should know by now that the boss never sleeps. Especially when it's something as important as this. He replies instantly.
Yuri: 2:51 AM: Any progress?
Yuri has always been direct, cutting through the noise to get to the heart of things. It's one of the reasons he runs the operation so well, and it's also one of the reasons conversations with him can be so tense.
Vadim: 2:53 AM: Not really. With Milo? fucking things up it means eight months of bad information and I'm starting from scratch.
I didn't bother to tell him about Boris's death, but the conversation about Jovan's betrayal didn't go well. He's losing faith in me for something that was out of my control. Had I not been delayed by Jovan's scheming, Lebedev would've been in custody and we'd have justice by now.
Yuri: 2:53 AM: I'm sending Lev or Fyodor. You need help.
My jaw tightens and I set the glass down on the table in frustration. I don’t need a fucking babysitter like one of my cousins. I can do this without help. I just need more time.
Vadim: 2:54 AM: That's not necessary. Now that the mole is out of my clique, I can finish the job on my own.
Yuri: 2:55 AM: You've been saying that for months.
Vadim: 2:56 AM: Two weeks. Give me two weeks. If I don't produce results by then, I'll accept the help.
There's a pause, longer than the others, and I can picture Yuri sitting in his office, weighing the options.
He doesn't like delays and he doesn't like complications.
But he also knows I don't ask for extensions unless I mean it.
I'm hoping he understands that I'm capable of doing this job without help and that I will finish it.
Yuri: 2:59 AM: Two weeks. After that, Lev is on a plane whether you like it or not.
Vadim: 2:59 AM: Understood.
I set the phone down and lean back on the couch, closing my eyes. I have two weeks to find a ghost who's been evading the entire Gravitch network for months. That's a lot of pressure to live under, and I will rise to the challenge. It's not in my DNA to fail.
The phone buzzes again and I assume it's Yuri with another warning, but when I look at the screen I see Jovan's name instead. Jovan has no business texting me at all, and it makes me wish he were here so I could tell him what I really think of him with my Glock.
I glance at the windows. the curtains are drawn but don't quite meet in the middle.
But I resist the urge to stand up and check if someone is watching the house.
If they're watching this house, they'd know I'm awake, but that doesn’t mean they are.
Maybe he's sent me something he hopes I'll wake to, and that piques my curiosity.
I open the message and see that it's a video file. It's grainy and low quality, and it has a timestamp in the corner reading eight months ago. The date Andrei supposedly killed Dominic.
I hit play.
The footage is taken from across the street, probably from a security camera on one of the buildings facing Yuri's wife's design studio. The angle is wide, showing the entire front of the shop, and for a moment nothing happens. Then headlights appear at the edge of the frame.
Three black SUVs race up the street and screech to a stop in front of the studio, and I watch as the doors open. One of them is clearly Semyon Mirov's car, the one poised to deliver Dominic to the studio where they'd pick up his wife to be.
Muzzle flashes light up the street and I watch as men from two of the SUVs shoot at the third in very dramatic fashion. The whole thing lasts maybe thirty seconds before the SUVs peel away, leaving nothing but wreckage behind.
I rewind and watch it again, slower this time, looking for details. The vehicles have no plates. The men wear masks and try to avoid being seen. Everything about this screams professional hit, and if this video existed eight months ago, why am I only seeing it now?
I pause on a frame where one of the SUVs is closest to the camera.
its passenger window is rolled down, and I zoom in as far as the quality will allow.
The image pixelates, but there's something there—an arm extended out the window, holding a weapon.
And on that arm, visible even through the blur, is a dark tattoo.
I stare at it trying to make sense of it, narrowing my eyes until it finally comes into focus.
I know that tattoo. Every man in the Gravitch family has one, a symbol of loyalty to the organization, ink that marks you as part of the brotherhood.
The core design is the same for everyone—a double-headed eagle with a crown, the symbol of our Russian heritage—but each man makes it his own.
Some add names. Some add dates. Some add flourishes and details that turn the simple design into something personal.
I can't tell whose tattoo this is from the video. The quality is too poor, the angle too distant, but I know what I'm looking at. This isn't just any hired gun. This is one of ours.
Someone in the Gravitch family tried to kill Yuri's wife.
I sit back and let my mind spin through the facts.
If this is true and one of our own was involved in that hit, then everything I've been told about Andrei is wrong.
He wasn't the sole shooter. He might not have been the shooter at all.
This could be a frame job—a way to eliminate a rival or cover up a betrayal—and I've been chasing the wrong target for eight months.
Who benefits from this? Who stands to gain if Andrei takes the fall?
I watch the video again, this time focusing on the other details. The way the vehicles move. The coordination of the attack, the timing. This wasn't sloppy or rushed. It was planned down to the second, and that means there are more people involved than just Andrei and his shooter.
After another thirty minutes of watching the video, the buzz of alcohol becomes too much for me to see straight. I'll have to inform Yuri of this eventually, but I don't dare send him another message tonight or he'll send "help" in the form of someone who will barge into my business and take over.
But with this new information, I think I have a better idea of how to move forward. Even if I have to draw the fucker out myself. Whoever it is, I know what his tattoo is, at least. When I see the man with the matching mark, I'll know who took the shot that killed Dominic.
I flip the tv off and then the lights, check that the door is locked and then plug my phone in and take off my pants. Danica stirs a little when I crawl into bed to hold her, but she nestles into my chest and falls right back asleep and soon, I join her.
And I dream the rest of the night about finally catching Andrei Lebedev, and taking down every person in his little conspiracy to overthrow my family.
And they're some of the best dreams I've had in months.