Chapter 25
VIKTOR
News reaches me of the wedding day rapidly approaching, and only Sergei can calm me down. The information of where is only provided to invitees, and I clearly didn’t make the guest list. I’m forced to get the location the ugly way.
I have my men take a Grinkov runner off the street in Bensonhurst two nights after the breach.
He’s a courier who thinks he’s important because he gets to carry envelopes and deliver quiet orders.
He’s the kind of man who feels powerful because he gets to invoke Mikhail’s name and see people squirm.
In reality, he’s a nobody with no backbone.
I watch on a surveillance camera as he starts crying the moment my men grab him, and doesn’t stop as they put a black bag over his head. He screams like a little bitch as Misha pulls him into the back of the van and shuts the door.
They bring him to a property I don’t use often, an old garage that looks abandoned from the outside. Sergei’s declined to be part of this. He thinks I’m taking the violence too far, so I’ve let him off the hook for now. He’s in Brighton Beach doing damage control while I take care of the mess.
I walk in and see the runner tied to a chair, hood still on. His wrists are bound behind him and his ankles are zip-tied to the chair legs. He’s sweating hard enough that I can smell it from across the room.
Misha steps closer to me and keeps his voice low.
“He’s been quiet for most of the ride,” he tells me. “He says he’s ready to talk, but only to you.”
“I’m here,” I say, loud enough for the runner to hear.
Misha nods and steps back.
I circle the man slowly. I don’t rush. I don’t shout. I want to really let him stew in his fear. I want him to wonder if any second could be his last. I finally grab the hood and yank it off after a minute.
He blinks hard under the harsh light and tries to lift his chin, but his throat bobs when he swallows and his eyes are red from crying.
He’s young, only in his mid-twenties at most. He has a clean haircut and a new, expensive jacket.
He’s trying to look tougher than he is, but the crying gave that away.
“You’re Viktor Kovalev,” he breathes out with the appropriate amount of reverence.
“I am,” I answer.
He forces a laugh, though it comes out weak. “Mikhail is going to—”
“What?” I ask him harshly. “Tell me what your boss plans to do to me, and I promise that you’ll get the same treatment.”
He swallows hard and shuts his mouth. I pull a chair from the corner and sit in front of him, close enough that I can hear his shallow breathing. My elbows rest on my knees. My gun stays holstered. I don’t need it yet.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He hesitates, then answers. “Pavel.”
“Pavel,” I repeat. “How long have you worked for Mikhail Grinkov?”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care, but his eyes keep darting to my hands. “Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say patiently.
He exhales sharply. “A few months.”
That’s nothing. He’s not even been with the organization long enough to be considered for brotherhood. His pride is his biggest weakness, which means I can easily exploit it.
“What do you do for him?” I ask.
“I run messages,” he says.
“Who do you report to?” I ask.
His jaw tightens. “No one.”
I stare at him for a moment, then nod once. “You can lie if you want. It just costs you precious time, and you don’t have much left.”
He keeps his mouth shut.
I stand and walk to a metal table by the wall. There are tools laid out neatly. I like to be organized in situations like this. I pick up a pair of pliers and set them down again. Then I pick up a bottle of water and walk back over.
Pavel’s eyes track the water like he’s been in the desert for months. I unscrew the cap and hold it up to his mouth. I give him just enough to wet his throat, then I pull it away.
He breathes hard through his nose.
“What is this?” he asks carefully.
“This is me giving you a chance,” I say.
His gaze sharpens. “A chance at what?”
“A chance to keep your hands,” I answer calmly.
His face goes paler.
I sit back down in front of him. “You were involved in the breach.”
He shakes his head fast. “No,” he answers quickly. “They would never let me be part of something that big.”
“That might be true,” I reply. “You knew about it, though.”
“I didn’t,” he insists. “I’m not that high up.”
“You’re tasked with carrying important messages for Mikhail,” I say slowly. “Messages that no one else is privy to. That must make you feel essential.”
His mouth opens, then shuts it. He’s thinking. He’s weighing his options. He’s trying to decide if I’m tricking him.
“The thing is, Pavel, even if you weren’t involved, you know more than the men who were. You were vital in getting the word spread. So, I’ll ask you again. Tell me who coordinated it.”
He laughs again, brittle. “I don’t know.”
I nod once. “That’s fine,” I say casually.
I stand, walk behind him, and grab his left hand. I hold it steady, then I take the pliers and clamp them around his ring finger. I don’t rush. I give him time to understand what is happening.
His breath spikes. “Wait.”
“I waited,” I say calmly. “There’s no more waiting.”
He starts to panic, voice cracking. “I don’t know anything, I swear I don’t know anything.”
I squeeze.
He screams so loud his throat goes raw in an instant. The chair jerks under him. His shoulders strain against the ties. The bones crush under the weight of the pliers.
Pavel sobs hard and gasps for air. “Stop, stop, stop.”
I release the pliers and step back into his line of sight.
“You can still help yourself,” I tell him. “Tell me who coordinated the breach.”
His whole body shakes. “I don’t know.”
I don’t argue. I don’t threaten again. I take his other hand.
His eyes go wide. “No, please—”
I crush another finger.
This scream is worse. It rips out of him like his body is trying to detach from itself. He starts babbling, words slurring, begging, promising, swearing. I let him get it out. I let him realize begging doesn’t change anything.
When he finally starts to quiet, I lean in. “Who coordinated the breach?”
Pavel sobs and swallows. “Dmitri.”
The name matches records that we pulled earlier, and it tells me Pavel isn’t just yelling out a random name.
I keep my voice steady. “Dmitri who?”
“Solinaya,” he whispers.
“Good,” I say.
Pavel shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks.
“The only thing I did was carry something, I swear to God,” he sobs.
“What did you carry?” I ask curiously.
“A phone,” he says. “A burner. Dmitri said it had to get into the house. He said the girl’s father needed to speak to her.”
That aligns with what I learned from the driver’s nephew.
My jaw tightens. “Who gave you access?”
Pavel hesitates. I step closer and rest my hand on his shoulder. My grip is gentle, which makes him flinch anyway. He’s expecting more pain, and the anticipation is doing half the work for me now.
“Answer me,” I say.
He exhales. “One of your new guards. I didn’t know his name. Dmitri gave him cash and told him he’d die if he didn’t do it.”
“Describe him.”
Pavel stares at the floor, thinking through pain.
“Young. Brown hair. Scar on his chin. He kept looking over his shoulder like he knew he was dead already.”
Well, that’s sealed the kid’s death warrant. Once this is all over, I’ll have him taken care of. For now, though, all my attention is on Pavel.
Pavel tries to breathe through his sobs. “That’s all I know.”
“That’s not all you know,” I say.
His eyes widen. “I swear.”
I lean closer. “Dmitri coordinated the breach. Dmitri snuck in the phone. Dmitri knows where she is now. I need his location.”
Pavel’s whole face goes slack. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Then you’re useless,” I reply.
He shakes hard. “I’m not. I can help. I can get you into the wedding.”
I keep my voice calm. “How exactly will you do that?”
Pavel swallows, then forces it out. “They’re doing it in two days. Mikhail wants it to be a public spectacle. He wants it in front of everyone. He wants the whole city to see her as his.”
My jaw clenches. “Where is it?”
He shakes his head.
“If I tell you where it is, you’re going to kill me,” he says as calmly as he can.
He’s not a total idiot, then. He realizes that his value on this earth is quickly coming to an end.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to break your legs.”
Pavel’s voice breaks. “It’s in Red Hook.”
My attention sharpens. Red Hook is a reasonable guess if you want water, space, and controlled access. Red Hook is also a place where a lot of families have interests, which means a public wedding there is a message. It tells Brooklyn that Mikhail is not afraid of stepping into contested spaces.
“Where in Red Hook?” I ask.
Pavel shakes his head. “I promise I’ll take you there myself and get you in,” he says quickly. “You have my word.”
I stand and walk to the table again. I don’t pick up pliers this time. I pick up my knife. It’s not a showy blade. It’s a working blade. I walk back and rest the flat of it against Pavel’s cheek.
His eyes lock on mine, terrified and pleading.
I keep my tone mild. “Your word means nothing to me.”
He starts to shake harder. “Please, Mr. Kovalev,” he weeps. “I have no reason to lie to you. I will even hand you the head of security so you can get the rest of the men in.”
My grip on the knife stays steady. “Who is handling security for the wedding?”
Pavel hesitates again. I press the blade slightly, not enough to cut deep, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. His breath catches and his words spill out.
“Yuri Belov,” he says. “He runs Mikhail’s perimeter crews. We work together a lot. If I tell him to come out, he’ll do it. He trusts me.”
I know that name. It was also in Sergei’s report. Pavel is telling the truth. Do I trust him enough to help me, though? Hell no.
I step back and wipe the blade clean on my sleeve. Pavel’s face is streaked with tears and sweat. His hands are mangled. His hope is thin and desperate.
“Do we have a deal?” he whispers.
I look at him for a moment, then nod. “We have a deal.”
He starts to cry harder, relief and pain mixing.
Misha shifts behind me as I walk away from him. “Do you want him alive?”
I keep my voice flat.
“He can get us into the wedding,” I answer. “As soon as he lures Yuri out, he’s no longer useful to me.”
Misha nods. I leave him there to keep Pavel company until the wedding. I head back toward the safehouse to start working on the attack. We have a small window of time, and a lot to prepare. I gather my men and raid my weapons supply.
We’re going straight into the belly of the beast, and I’m going to get Anya back.
Even if it kills me.