AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Luka had known better than to avoid him after leaving the Di Salvos’ estate. Ivankov had still been uninterested in his absence, even though he’d been gone longer than all but one time in the past. Ivankov’s calm had been strange, and it made his nerves skitter. Luka had expected much worse.
Ivankov had spoken only one sentence to him. To remember his sister. Luka hadn’t understood what that meant at all.
When he appeared today, expecting an order or to be equally as dismissed, Ivankov had been different. He’d moved on to a new house, though only the father of the household had been killed so far. Ivankov cooed at the baby that was present, which was more disturbing than if he had stabbed it. The mother and older daughter and son tried to avoid his attention while they huddled together.
Kiryl Ivankov wasn’t a young man, but his dark hair and unblemished face were timeless. He had no wrinkles, no laugh lines, nothing to give away his true age. His body was firm and toned, and he was larger than Luka.
Seeing the light in his eyes and his ready smile at the infant, when he normally only smiled while inflicting pain, made Luka’s nerves tighten in his stomach, expecting the worst.
Ivankov kept cooing toward the woman’s arms.
“We have a job tonight,” was all he said over his shoulder to Luka. “Stay close.”
Hours had passed, and Luka’s stomach had drawn tighter and tighter. The fear the new family felt was palpable, but Luka knew better than to consider being their savior.
There were no saviors in this life. Only more killers like him.
Which was why offering his hand to Alina had been beyond his understanding. Finding comfort in sleeping next to her, in gently clasping her wrist despite the pain, made no sense. Wishing she was near him, that he could hear her voice instead of the soft crying of children, was the worst kind of daydream.
He’d found Ivankov’s gaze on him at one point. The monster was still smiling.
Luka should have been looking for an opportunity to place his blade in Ivankov’s back instead of worrying that Alina might believe he’d decided not to return.
The warehouse they had traveled to was noisy; a shipment had just arrived. The area was familiar. Luka had staked out most of the properties that belonged to La Cosa Nostra. Especially the ones that belonged to the Di Salvo family.
He was surprised that none of Giovanni’s family were there that night. Not that he would have tried to stop the raid if they were. Giovanni and Luka understood their roles on opposite sides of this feud.
They weren’t friends. Not when Luka was tied to the Bratva.
It would be just like Ivankov to test him in that way. He’d been enraged when Luka left Giovanni alive years before. And given how often Giovanni had attacked the Bratva lately, Ivankov would have more eyes on the Di Salvo estate than his own. Luka had no doubts the pakhan knew where he’d gone that morning.
The thought brought a sinking feeling to his stomach, one very different from the usual roiling nerves.
Ivankov led the way inside the warehouse. Gunfire started, but the pakhan was faster than even Luka—a true, inhuman monster who laughed as he killed the majority of La Cosa Nostra soldiers himself. He even killed a few of his own men when they ventured too close.
Luka never laughed while he killed. It wasn’t pleasure that he felt as he sank his knife into his victims. It was a steadily increasing chill that somehow didn’t hamper his speed.
A larger man with a beard and steady aim shouted orders to retreat. Luka recognized him. Montrell Coronella was known for having worked his way up from nothing. A true made man. He had the trust and loyalty of his family because he’d earned it. The man’s possible alliance with Giovanni, which Luka had observed, made sense to him.
Killing him would set the Di Salvos back, but that wouldn’t stop Luka. Not with Ivankov present.
He made steady progress toward the man, whose steady accuracy took out more than a few Bratva boyeviki. When he was close enough, Luka lunged.
But someone else darted in front of Coronella. They were tall and muscled, but the sleekly pulled-back hair was also familiar, as was the determined glint in her eyes.
Luka pulled back before he killed Coronella’s second-in-command.
Her lips curled in derision as she lifted her gun.
But the shot didn’t come from her weapon, and she dropped her gun as her derision turned to pain.
Ivankov was no longer laughing. “No one touches what’s mine,” he said. He held his gun steady as he continued to fire, but Coronella had been given a moment to regroup and shoved both himself and his second behind cover.
Luka hated that the monster had saved him. He hated that the monster owned him.
He hated Kiryl Ivankov.
His knife still in his hand, he darted beneath the firing gun, aiming for the pakhan’s chest.
