Page 8 of Ruined By Sin

Six of us sit in Roman's study around the long table we gather at for our team meetings. My brother sits at the head with a glass of something dark in front of him. After the call I had with him yesterday, he called this meeting to take the reins and focus on the issue before it spirals out and we end up in damage control. Morin was foolish to do what he did, and I'm walking a line with my brother now, between what will benefit the family and how I feel about the man who saved my life.

Morin stands to my left, and the room is his stage. It's just part of who he is, craving all the attention on him, and sometimes, he deserves it. This is one of those times, but not for the reasons he thinks. If we don't get a handle on this Mirov problem, it'll be bad for all of us, but if we do it the wrong way, it'll leave us exposed or worse—brought down.

"This has been building for months," he says. "Mirov didn't just wake up one morning and decide to come after us. He's been laying the groundwork since before the new year."

Roman's expression hasn't changed since we sat down. He's listening, but I can tell he's tired of this. We had eight months of relative peace but we're right back where we’re talking strategy about how to clean up a mess that started when Kazimir let a woman get too close to him.

I for one am grateful that Morin caught on to how Victor Mirov has been moving to bring us down quietly. Without that, we might've been caught off guard and destroyed before we even saw them coming. But the girl poses a risk I'm not sure how we'll handle.

Killing her would be the easiest option, but Roman and I aren't cold-blooded killers.

"Walk me through it again," Roman says, "from the top."

Morin nods and swipes through a few screens. "Three of our highest-value bettors received direct outreach from Mirov-affiliated contacts over the past six weeks. Federov, Powolsky, and Deblune. Federov's already moved a significant portion of his action to their books. Powolsky is hedging, placing with both sides. Deblune hasn't moved yet, but he's taken meetings."

"Meetings with whom?" Ro asks, giving me a side-eye. I should've paid more attention to Morin when he was giving me a rundown, but I trust him fully. None of this changes anything. It just makes me look less thorough since I didn't add it into my reports.

"Semyon Mirov... Victor's brother." Morin taps the tablet and a still image appears on the screen. It's grainy, pulled from what looks like a security camera, but clear enough. Two men sit at a table in a restaurant I don't recognize. "This is Semyon sittingwith Federov three weeks ago. And this" —he swipes to the next image— "is the same restaurant, different night, with Deblune."

Roman leans forward and studies the images. His jaw works slowly, grinding something down that he's not saying yet.

When I look at the images, they don't look at all like Federov and Deblune, but the resolution is too low. It's not clear enough to truly see what's going on or have clear detail. But if he saw them with his own eyes, it must be them.

"And then there's this." Morin pulls up a video. The quality's better than the stills, shot from across a street through a window. It shows Victor Mirov himself, shaking hands with Federov while Semyon stands behind them. But Federov's back is to the camera. Only the back of his head is shown.

The room is quiet while the video plays. It's only about twenty seconds long but it lands hard. Seeing Victor Mirov personally courting our people isn't speculation. It's confirmation.

"When was this taken?" Roman asks, lifting his eyes to lock onto Morin. Everything that's happened just got a lot more complicated for us with that girl, but I know Roman knows how to lead this organization safely.

"Nine days ago."

Ro sits back and rubs a hand across his mouth. He still hasn't told me what to do about the girl other than to keep her comfortable and quiet for a few more days until we know what's happening. Now that he's fully in the loop, it's not an option to just keep her locked up. If she's with Mirov, we could always use her as a leverage point to force him to push back. If she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, however, things will get messy.

Having a civilian messed up in our war means eyes will turn our way. If anyone knows who took her, or if there is a single shred of evidence that Morin left behind, they'll come after us with everything they've got. She won't just be the woman who went missing. She'll be a kidnapping victim tied to a mass shooting incident. And after that April in the nineties in the US, the words "mass shooting" conjure the absolute worst public perceptions. It won't just be cops after us.

The press would destroy Roman's good name.

"You know, I really thought we were past this," Ro grumbles. He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees, and rubs his face.

"We're never past this," Morin says. "Not as long as there are families in this city who think they can do what we do better than us."

"I want to try diplomacy." Roman looks at me when he says it, not Morin. He knows where I stand and he wants to hear me say it. "Sit down with Victor, talk it through, find out what he actually wants... We have that girl for leverage." That's exactly what I thought he'd say, and I have a feeling it's not what my best friend wants to hear.

Morin shakes his head before Roman even finishes the sentence. "Victor Mirov's not going to sit down with you. He's been positioning against us for years and every time we've extended an offer to talk, he's either ignored it or sent back an insult. The man doesn't want a conversation, Roman. He wants what we have and he thinks he's finally found the cracks to take it."

The air in this room seems to thicken and warm to a boggy and uncomfortable density. No one questions Roman but me orKazimir, and he's not fond of us when we do that. But I see the immense amount of control happening behind his eyes. His jaw clenches and he looks away for a second.

"That's his assessment," Roman says, gesturing at Morin. Then he turns to me. "What's yours?"

I feel the eyes of every man in this room settle on me. This is the part I've been dreading since I picked up the phone last night and told my brother everything. Morin's my best friend and my right hand and he's right about this.

Sitting down with Mirov isn't really an option, though we could send word about his girl—if we confirm she's a Mirov. Everything points that way, but tossing out a hostage situation without evidence could incite Mirov to do something stupid. I have to get back to her and grill her for information first.

"Morin's right," I say. "The outreach to our bettors isn't opportunistic. It's coordinated. They're targeting specific people in a specific order designed to erode confidence in our operation from the top down. Sitting down with him now would just give him more time to pull people away from us."

Ro narrows his eyes and purses his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek. I know my brother well enough to know he's wrestling with this. He doesn’t want to take hasty action, but the intel is all right here. Giving them more time to strengthen their position is the last thing we should do. We learned that the hard way too many times in recent years.

Kazimir jumps in without waiting for an invitation. "We're all in agreement here, Ro. This isn't one person pushing for a fight. Every single one of us has seen this coming. If we let Mirov keepchipping away at us, we won't have anything left to defend by the time you're ready to act."