"Tch. What am I going to do with you, Dimka?" Zoya muttered under her breath, looking through Dmitry's bank statements one by one, taking a highlighter and red pen to each page as she formulated a plan to get his head out of his ass. Or, rather, out of the ass of whatever girl at Club Celeste all of his money was going to. She had half of mind to tell Anatoly to refuse Dmitry entry, but that would only change the time of day the problem was happening.

At least he doesn't gamble, she thought to herself as she highlighted the sum amount of money spent on a single woman. An excessive amount of money. She set his statements down and pulled up the spreadsheet she had been working on, filled to the brim with notes and figures, and began to add his expenditures to the list. There were other people in the bratva who were guilty of spending more than they should – Nikita was terrible with money, Timur was prone to impulse splurges – but few were as irresponsible as Dmitry. She was tempted to simply take his cards from him. Deep down she knew that wouldn't fix the root of the problem.

She shut her laptop with a heavy exhale and stood up, walking to her open window to look out across the street. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over Albany. It was a relatively peaceful area, and Zoya found herself more than content with the move; it was quiet, and she didn't find herself missing the city as much the more time she spent away from it. But she couldn't help but miss her friends sometimes. It made the end feel... final. The Brosnya was done and over. Everyone was moving on. Though she longed for the glory days, perhaps it was time for her to move on, too.