Page 84 of Emerald Vices
Shura alone remains standing behind the three men. Only I spy the gun in his holster.
“Efrem is already aware of this,” I start, addressing Vasily and Anatoly first, “but Slavik is back.”
Vasily nods. “We’ve heard rumors, boss. Is he here for good?”
“Not only is he here for good, he’s here to take back the Bratva.”
Vasily and Anatoly make a good show of looking shocked, but I won’t be so easily swayed.
“Can he do that?” Vasily demands.
“He thinks he can… with enough support.”
“Does that mean Vladimir is back, too?” Vasily tries not to look at Efrem, but he loses that fight. We all watch for his reaction.
Efrem clears his throat. “He tried to contact me a few times.”
I stand, planting my fists on my desk. “You never mentioned that to me, Efrem.”
“He’s my father, okay? I had to pick up. That doesn’t mean I do everything he says.”
“He called for a reason.”
“Yeah, he called for a reason: he wanted me to defect,” Efrem admits. Anatoly and Vasily lean away from the man as though he’s contagious. He scowls at both of them. “I’m still fucking here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” I agree. “The question is: why don’t you seem happy about it?”
Efrem pales. “It’s not a question of being happy. I just… I don’t fucking get it,” he snaps.
“Get what?”
“This who’s-the-pakhan business. Why the fuck does it matter?” He throws up his hands. “It’s the same damn family. Even if Slavik were to step back in, you’d get the title eventually.”
Shura’s hand strays towards his weapon. I caution him against it with the subtlest flick of my eyebrows.
We need answers right now, not bloodshed. Not yet, at least.
“Slavik fled and left us here to drown in his mess, Efrem. He took a personal jet, filled it with his men, his whore, and most of the Kuznetsov money, and he fucking ran.” I grip the edges of my desk to keep my hands from curling around Efrem’s throat. “Do you think this Bratva would have survived long without me? Slavik drained the coffers before he left. It took my leadership to salvage this Bratva.”
“Yeah, well, Slavik says otherwise,” he mutters.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
Efrem clears his throat again. The color still hasn’t returned to his cheeks. “I just listened to what my father said. I didn’t agree, and I didn’t defect.”
“But you don’t think defecting would be that big a deal.”
The mudak has the balls to look me in the eye. “His men would be yours eventually.”
“They already are. Most of them, at least.”
Efrem swallows. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you have a choice to make, Efrem. If you choose to accept my leadership, it means rejecting Slavik. It means that, one day, you might come face to face with your own father on opposite sides of the war.”
Panic blooms across his neck and under the color of his shirt like burning red scabs. “I know where my loyalties lie.”
“Problem is, brother, I don’t.”