Page 135 of Secret Heir

It’s all lies, but Yuri doesn’t need to know that.

The little fucker blanches, eyes bulging. “That’s not—I never⁠—”

I nod at Pavel, who steps forward and breaks Yuri’s left index finger with a quick, practiced twist.

Yuri screams.

“Let’s try again,” I say calmly, not bothered. “You’ve been working for Alexander Morozov for seven years. What do you know about his operations?”

For the next two hours, we break Yuri Abaza. Pavel is efficient. He knows exactly how much pain to apply, when to pause, and how to make someone talk without killing them. I’m genuinely impressed and look at the man with newfound respect.

Finally, Yuri breaks.

“There’s a safe house!” He’s sobbing, three fingers broken, his face swollen from Pavel’s fists. “In Red Hook. Near the old waterfront. Alexander uses it when he needs to disappear. I helped set it up two years ago.”

“Address,” I demand.

He gives it to us. A warehouse district, mostly abandoned and easy to defend. Smart location.

“Who knows about it?”

“Just me and two others.” He names them. “We’re the only ones Alexander trusted with it.”

“Are they there now?” I ask, leaning forward, pinning him with a glare.

“I don’t know! I haven’t been there in months! Alexander cut me off after the poisoning failed. He said I was compromised and I needed to disappear and wait for contact.”

I grind my teeth. “Is Alexander there now?”

“I don’t know! Maybe! He mentioned it once as his final fallback. If everything went to shit, that’s where he’d go.”

I look at Nikolai, who’s been standing in his usual spot in the corner. He nods.

“Get the address to our tactical team,” Nikolai orders. “We move tonight.”

Red Hook. Of course it’s fucking Red Hook.

This is where it all started eight years ago when Aria witnessed the execution and overheard Alexander’s conspiracy. Now it’s where it ends.

We prep in the compound’s armory—a room lined with enough weapons to start a small war. Nikolai has assembled a team of twelve men who are ready to kill or die for the brotherhood. I’m gearing up alongside them, strapping on body armor, and choosing my weapons.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Nikolai says quietly, meant only for me. “You’re still recovering. One wrong move and you could puncture a lung.”

“I’m going.” I don’t look at him and continue checking my Glock. It has a full magazine and one in the chamber. There are two backup mags on my belt.

My brother sighs. “Maksim, listen to reason.”

“This is personal.” I finally meet his eyes. “Alexander tried to kill me and my son. He threatened my girl. I’m going to be there when we take him down. This is non-negotiable, Kolya.”

Nikolai studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. “You stay in the second wave,” he orders. “Back position. If it goes to shit, you pull out. Understood?”

“Understood.”

It’s a lie and we both know it. If it goes to shit, I’m not pulling out. Not until Alexander is either dead or in custody.

We leave the compound at 11 p.m., a convoy of three SUVs with darkened windows. The drive to Red Hook takes forty minutes.

The safe house is exactly where Yuri said it would be—a three-story brick building in a warehouse district near the waterfront. Most of the surrounding buildings are abandoned. There are broken windows covered in graffiti.