Page 62 of Twisted Hearts
“Hey, Yuri?” I interrupt him.
He shrugs. “Forgive me. I’m not trying to meddle. I just try and think long term as much as possible.”
“No offense taken, and I understand perfectly.” I clap him on the shoulder. “It’s not something I’ve completely written off. I’m considering it.”
No I’m not.
After we all sit, Yuri glances at me and then clears his throat. “One of our own has been attacked. The reason I’ve called this impromptu meeting is to—”
“Fuck this.”
I glare at Abram as he stands, pounding a fist on the table.
“Sitdown, Abram,” I hiss. “Yuri was—”
“Talking, yes, I know,” Abram spits. “Because that’s all this table of soft financiers and investors want to do.Talk. Not take action. Not go to war, as their own fathers would have, as is the way of the Bratva!”
I glance next to me at Lukas, who is shaking his head.
“And exactly who should we be going to warwith, Abram,” he sighs.
The head of the Diduch family scoffs. “We all know who. This was all Drazen’s doing, and he’s going tokeepdoing it until you all find your balls and vote to allow me and my cousin to defend this council as we—”
“For thelast fucking time,” Viktor snaps. “We are not declaring war on a fucking fairytale! Who’s next, Abram?” He snarls. “The goddamn Tooth Fairy? Are we going to pool our resources to hunt the fucking Easter Bunny?! Maybe you’d like to order a hit on fucking Santa Claus while you’re at it.”
Abram’s lips curl, his teeth flashing dangerously. But Viktor keeps going.
“Givingyouof all fucking people control of all of our forces in order to go after a Boogeyman is absurd. You need to understand: it’s not going to happen.”
“And I wonder how this grand opinion of yours will change,Viktor,” Abram yells as he gets to his feet. “When Drazen comes foryounext—”
“WE DON’T KNOW IT WAS DRAZEN!” Viktor bellows. “For fuck’s sake, Abram, what do you not understand about this? There’s literally not even concrete proof Drazen Krylov is a real person!”
The room goes quiet. Even Abram shuts up and then sits. Then, slowly, his lips curl.
“No? Well then, I wonder what the fuck this is supposed to mean.”
He slips a hand inside his suit jacket. When he pulls it out, he’s holding a plastic baggie with “New York Police Department Evidence Locker” stamped on it. “I got this from one of my connections on the force,” he sneers. “I wonder what it could be?”
He tosses the baggie on the table.
“Go ahead,” he jeers. “Take a look.”
Viktor glances first at Yuri, then at me, before he reaches over and plucks up the bag. I lean close, frowning as I try to figure out what I’m looking at.
The evidence bag has “Kalishnik, Marco” printed on it, together with the date and location of the bombing the other day, along with “Attention: Organized Crime Division”. Inside is a playing card—the King of Diamonds. But the head has been burned out with what looks like a cigarette, and there’s burn marks around the edges.
There’s writing on it, too—words scrawled in fine-tipped black marker. And when I lean closer, my body stiffens when I read it:
Now there is a seat at the table for me.
I am coming.
-Drazen Krylov
The room is silent. Abram’s eyes land on each of us in turn.
“I don’t know, Viktor,” he snarls. “Maybe he’s not real. But he did justliterally leave a calling cardwith his fucking signature on it. So you tell me.”