"Yeah, we saw him. We talked to him earlier. He - "

Taras paused, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know. He said some things, like he was trying to fuck with Isaev's head."

He closed his eyes, a frown weighting his thick brow, heavy and textured like granite.

"Isaev made me promise not to hurt him."

Taras drew in a harsh breath. His chest ached, like it was hard to breathe.

"...I don't understand what it is between them," he whispered.