Page 56 of Ruined By Sin

I stand up and button my jacket. My jaw is so tight, it's making my neck and chest strain and tense. I have a headache on one side of my head behind my eye, which Levin would tell me is a stress migraine, induced by how tense my body is. And though I'd have pinned Kira to that bed and unleashed on her to relieve myself, I had to prove everything she was saying is true first.

I just haven't had time to snap out of it yet. Not when I know the truth now.

I've spent the past four hours verifying every piece of evidence Victor Mirov sent me. Bank records, encrypted communications, ballistics reports, payment trails—I've authenticated them against my own databases, cross-referenced timestamps, tracedshell companies through three layers of registration. And every single thread leads back to the same place.

"Four hours ago, I received intelligence from a source outside this organization," I say. "That intelligence included bank records showing payments from Mirov accounts to shell companies controlled by someone in this room. It included encrypted communications spanning thirty-seven months between that person and Mirov operatives. And it included a ballistics analysis showing that the rounds that killed Dracon Karpov came from the same weapon used to shoot someone in this room."

The room goes quiet. Morin sets the map down and turns to face me fully. His eyes are darker than they were a few seconds ago, hands curling together in front of his body. If he runs now, no one would chase him except me, but he's not smart enough to know that. He does, however, know that I know something. I see it in the way his nostrils flare and his lips purse. Then his jaw tips up slightly.

He has something else up his sleeve, which I refuse to believe even if he has proof of it.

"The drive-by that killed Dracon and put a bullet in your shoulder," I continue, looking directly at him, "was staged. The bombing at the club was not a Mirov attack. You strapped that bomb to his chest and sent him into our building to give me a reason to authorize this escalation you've been pushing for months."

"That's insane." Morin scowls and takes a step toward me. It's like the two of us are the only ones in this room. He could care less that three other Kuzin men and a few guards could easily come at him if he lifts a finger at me. "Tim, whoever fed youthis is lying. The Mirovs are playing you. They've gotten to you through that girl and now they're feeding you fabricated?—"

"I verified it myself. Every piece of evidence stacked against you... Bank records authenticated against financial databases I built." I point to my chest. "Communications decrypted with keys that match Mirov encryption protocols I've been tracking for years. Ballistics cross-referenced against open investigations in three jurisdictions in which I know you were the shooter." I slam my fist onto the table, starting to unravel a little. "This isn't a Mirov fabrication, Morin. This is your trail and I followed every inch of it."

He scoffs and shakes his head, laughing as he drags a hand down over his face. "You believe this?" he scoffs, finally looking to my older brother who leans forward in his seat curiously. "This fucker—" Then he gets angry, glaring at me. "You know I fucking saved your life once."

"Oh, come off it, Melnik." I push the maps back and stalk closer to him. God, I could fucking kill him right now. "You and I both know I've more than paid you back for that."

"That girl really fucked with your head, didn't she?" He pushes me playfully then, smiling again. He doesn't know whether to be scared and shit his pants or to be angry and attack. "She's the one who did this. She's the fucking mole, Tim." Morin's getting nervous, eyes flicking around the room anxiously. "She's a fucking Mirov. I have proof of it. She set this shit up to make me look bad and?—"

"I already know who she is," I snarl, shoving him so hard, he rams into the chair and falls over backward. I stalk forward as he scrambles to his feet but Yegor, standing at the door like always, pulls his weapon. Morin isn't getting out of here alive unless Isay so. "I've known for days that she's Victor's niece. She's told me everything, including the fact that you came to her room with a gun and choked her while Dryden's back was turned."

"She's lying. That stupid?—"

"Don't!" I snarl angrily, resting my hand on my own gun tucked in the holster at my hip. "Don't you fucking do that. You don’t get to trash her again."

Morin pushes the chair away from him and glances up at Roman again like he thinks my brother will help. Kazimir hides a smirk behind his hand, and Radimir has the same stoic glare on his face as my brother. None of these men are going to take his side. I haven't even told anyone any of this until now, but I know they have my back.

"Tim, you fucking know me. We go back to childhood. Why would I do that?" This innocent act is going to piss me off more than the lies.

"I saw the bruises, Morin. I saw your fingerprints on her throat. And I watched you try to kill her with my own eyes, so don't stand here and tell me she's the one I can't trust."

He takes a step toward me and his hands come up in surrender. "You're making a mistake. Everything I've done has been to protect this family. I've bled for you, Tim. I took a bullet for this organization. I killed for you. I saved your life."

"You saved my life and then you spent the next twenty years using it as leverage to do whatever you wanted. You've been selling our intelligence to the Mirovs for three years. You've been collecting payments from both sides and stoking a war that serves no one but you. It was all manufactured to keep us fighting so you could keep profiting."

He lunges at me and grabs the front of my shirt, then he shoves me backward into the table. I hear chairs scrape as everyone moves at once on their feet with guns raised. I grab his lapels and shove back and we stand chest to chest, his face inches from mine.

"I saved your life," he hisses through his teeth. "You owe me everything."

"I owed you everything. And now I owe you nothing. We're done." I shove him off me and he stumbles back.

Before he can reset, Kazimir is on him from the left and Stepan from the right. Kaz hooks his arm around Morin's neck from behind and Stepan grabs his wrists and they drive him down to his knees. He thrashes and kicks and curses, but between the two of them, he's pinned, his arms wrenched behind his back and his chest heaving.

I look at Roman who's standing at the head of the table with his hands flat on the surface. I've seen that look a million times. So much that I understand what he's going to say before he says it, so when he does, I'm not surprised.

"Do what you need to do, Tim," Roman says, and I get the message loud and clear. My brother is going to allow me to clean up my own mess.

It was never Victor Mirov that I needed to investigate. I should've had my eyes on this snake the entire time, and now that I've seen it, I can't unsee it. I walk to the desk in the corner and open the top drawer. Inside is a folding knife I keep for utility work around the club. I take it out and open it and walk back to where Morin is pinned on his knees between my cousin and my nephew.

"Open his mouth," I tell them.

Everything inside me feels heavy and worn out. It never had to come to this if he'd have just come clean. We'd have worked it out a different way. But not only did he lie to us, he stole from us, and he accused the woman I love of being the guilty party.

Morin's eyes go wide. "Tim, no, please." He starts fighting harder, thrashing against Kaz and Stepan. But Kaz tightens his grip around Morin's neck, pinning his head to his thigh until he stops. Stepan grabs his jaw and forces it open and Morin makes a feral and terrified sound, but with two of them on him, there's no way in hell he's getting up.