“Slavik fed you a convincing story and you believed him,” I continue, suppressing the urge to look towards the door every few seconds. “He was the one who turned your parents in to the FBI. He was the one who gave the cops all the evidence they needed to try your parents.”
Nikolai’s smile drops. “Why would he do that and then run?”
“He wasn’t trying to leave his son a legacy. He wanted Andrey to fail. He wanted to blow up the Kuznetsov Bratva and re-create it elsewhere. He never meant for Andrey to rebuild what he’d destroyed.”
I’m grasping at straws here, pulling words out of thin air to weave a believable story. But the more I talk, the more it makes sense to me.
Something seems to be making sense to Nikolai, too.
“Tell him, Viktor,” I demand. “Tell him it’s true.”
Viktor’s jaw dro
