I shake my head. I may be furious, but I’m not so far gone that I can’t see what’s right in front of me. “It’s not your fault,” I sigh, turning to Yuri. “If you’d been here, they would have gotten you, too.”
The thought alone sends chills down my back. Losing my only brother to the same bastards targeting my child?
Not a chance in f*****g hell.
Yuri swallows, nodding meekly. The guilt on his face is plain as day, but I can’t worry about that right now. I already absolved him—if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll take it.
I’m not the kind of man to forgive twice.
I stride into the cells. Room A first, then B. The Russian’s lying sideways on the ground, still tied to the chair, a bullet hole weeping blood on his forehead. His face is twisted into a horrified expression. Whatever he saw
