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“And I’m feeling a little…” My shoulders rock back and forth as an uncomfortable sensation crawls across them. “I’ve been in this situation before. I think I’m worried the same result will be at my feet.”
To my surprise, August laughs. “This time, you have me. You have us.”
The loading bay is filled with a small, deadly task force of some of August’s strongest men. Given that the lower-tier Family inside the warehouse with Aleksander already knows not to trust him, we have enough manpower to overwhelm those Aleksander brought with him. Despite this, Ivan and Nastja flash in my mind, and for a moment, my hands heat up with the warmth of spilled blood.
“Yeah.” I squash those feelings down and straighten up, meeting August’s gaze. “Let’s kill this fucker.”
“Listen up!” Even as a hushed whisper, August’s voice booms across the crowd and a hush falls. “We’re all here fueled by a desire to kill, but that is no excuse for sloppy work. The men with Aleksander are just as dangerous as he is. I want them all down quickly and quietly except for this man.” August holds up a picture of Alexei. “If you see him, take him down by non-lethal means. He is one of us. No one kills Aleksander, understand?”
A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, then August turns to me and clicks back the safety on his rifle.
“Showtime.”
Like a controlled river, August and his men spill into the warehouse, barely making a sound. They hug the walls and keep low to the floor, taking out Aleksander’s men as quietly as they can. Starting with a few stragglers, I step over their bodies in disgust and allow his men to take point until we’re deeper into the building and a familiar voice rises up.
Aleksander.
The second his tones reach my ears, anger burns through me like a rampant fire. My blood burns hot, and I tighten my grip on my handgun. Past towering shelves and broken down, old machinery, we creep closer and closer to the middle where the meeting is taking place. Then, August holds up one hand and everyone halts.
He’s waiting on an agreed codeword from the leader of the smaller Family, part of an agreement they came to—they help us, and August doesn’t hang them for stealing from the Yakuza.
Every breath scrapes past my lungs, burning my throat. Tension singes hot in my muscles, and I stand, rigid, with my eyes on August, waiting on the cue.
It comes in a flash. August’s hand lowers, and his men surge forward like water from a broken dam. They pour past the hanging cellophane curtain, and gunfire erupts like the explosions of fireworks in the sky. Bullets fly, men cry and yell as they’re shot, and with surprise being on our side, there’s minimal time for Aleksander and his men to fight back.
I don’t shoot anyone.
My bullets are reserved for one man.
Striding forward, I pass through the sea of fighting and dying men with my gaze locked hard on my target, and nothing gets in my way. Aleksander yells to his men, even fires off a few rounds to try and defend himself, but then his gaze falls to me. His face twists from shock to anger. He ducks to avoid some stray bullets, then raises his gun toward me.
He pulls the trigger.
I don’t flinch as his gun clicks empty. Anger melts into confusion, and then, slowly, understanding. Despite his reckless, careless ways, Aleksander is usually a smart man, and he knows when he’s facing the end.
A foot away from him, I swiftly raise my hand and strike him hard across the face with the edge of my weapon. Aleksander crumples to the ground with a cry and stays there.
It doesn’t take long for August and his men to round up the survivors and force them to their knees, with Aleksander at the front of the herd kneeling before me.
He’s lucky I didn’t kill him immediately. The silence in the warehouse is hollow after such a prolonged burst of gunfire, and while a few of August’s men are wounded, luckily, no one died.
“How did it come to this?” Aleksander pants around a swollen, bloody mouth. “How did things get so fucked?”
His voice grates through me like nails on a chalkboard. Did he really think he could talk his way out of this? If it weren’t for August, I likely would have killed Aleksander immediately, but it’s important to hear the final words of the Pakhan. No matter how intense my hatred.
“Did you ever look in the mirror?” I ask tightly, and my hand flexes around the grip of my gun. “Or was that all you could see? You got greedy, Aleksander. You lost sight of the Family, of the men and women dying under your command. You’re greedy, and your focused desire to secure people while stepping on the backs of the people under you is how you got here.”
Aleksander snorts wetly. “Still sour about the men you lost at the docks, huh?”
I punch him swiftly, then grasp his collar and haul him back upright. “It’s not just them, though, is it? How many men did August lose trying to beat back the Yakuza? How many starved to death because your stubbornness over the docks kept the shipping lanes down for too long?”
Aleksander growls and spits in my face, blood and saliva landing hot and wet on my cheek.
“Oh, you know all about Family, huh? You’re the fucking traitor who kidnapped mine. My own daughter!”
Leaning back, a dry laugh escapes me as I wipe my face with my sleeve. “I saved her, can’t you see that? You were selling her to the Kuznetsovs, and everyone here knows what a death sentence that is. Was it worth it for a new guns route? Screwing over everyone here who worked so hard to ship us weapons while keeping the Yakuza off our back. Did you forget that little detail?”
“You know nothing,” Aleksander spits, his eyes darting about. “I did what I had to, to secure the future of this Family!”
