Page 78 of The Pakhan’s Heir

I don’t know if it does or doesn’t. Either way…

The main elevator doors open and for just a split second, I see the sleeve of a black suit.

Rikki puts an arm in front of me and pushes me back. With lightning fast reflexes, he reaches into the elevator and grabs one of two men by the collar, dragging him out into the hallway.

The other is caught off guard for a split second, then he raises his rifle and aims it. Kostya grabs the muzzle, lifting it over his head. It goes off and bullets spark against the elevator opening and break the glass in the mirrored ceiling above us.

Our guys swoop in, grabbing the two men and yanking them into the hallway, soundly disarming and beating them senseless. Rikki nudges me forward to the elevator. “Time to go, Boss.”

The doors slide closed, blocking out the chaotic scene, and suddenly, we’re plunged into silence. The car moves and I take a breath, pulling my gun out of my holster. Rikki and Kostya do the same. We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there. Slavik could have men posted at the elevators, waiting for us. We could be walking into a web of enemies right now.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll plow through them all if I have to.

“First priority is finding Nona,” I say. “We don’t know what we’re about to walk into when these doors open. We might have to get through a few guys before we even reach the apartment. But at the end of the day, I don’t give a fuck who you have to kill. If you see Nona, you grab her and get her the fuck out of here.”

“Got it,” said Kostya.

“The only person I want you to find some restraint on is Slavik. You run into his ass, you can beat him to a pulp if you want, but you’d better save some for me. That motherfucker is mine.”

“You got it.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rikki adds.

I nod in acknowledgement, and I mean what I’ve said. Whatever happens, I want Slavik to suffer and I want it to be at my hands. For all that he’s done and tried to do, the least he deserves is my vengeance.

The elevators slows to a stop and the doors open. All three of us ready ourselves for anyone waiting and we’re not disappointed. One man stands before us as the doors slide open. He’s got his head turned, talking to someone just out of sight.

I don’t waste any time. The moment he faces forward, I put a bullet in his head. The gun pops and his head jerks back. He’s dead before he hits the floor.

Rikki steps halfway out, pressing his back to the elevator door to hold it open, then he aims and gets off two rounds. Shouts and curses come back at him and he flinches as a row of sparks from their return fire flies around him.

Kostya kneels and leans out, shooting three shots in quick succession. No more gunshots come flying at us, but someone is cursing loudly in Russian.

“Fuck! My fucking leg!”

We all step out to see three more lying in the hallway. Two of them are dead, one with a bullet in the chest, the other in the head. The third guy is on the ground, his hands on a bloodied hole in his leg.

He sees us and starts to crawl away. Rikki says to Kostya, “Your aim is slipping. A chest and a leg shot, Kostya?”

Kostya walks up to the bleeding one and he starts begging for mercy. “Please! Don’t! Please!”

“Shut up,” Kostya says as he shoots him in the head. Not sure if he was talking to Rikki or this poor bastard.

We march to Slavik’s door. Rikki takes point and shoots the lock. The doorknob sparks and comes apart completely, leaving the door to swing open.

“Should have done it like this the first time around,” Rikki muttered as we walk into the foyer. “Maybe we could have flushed the bastard out sooner.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Kostya answers back. We walk all the way into the living room and take a moment to get our bearings. Hallways lead to other rooms, other places to hide. A staircase leads up to the second level…

“I’ll take the upstairs,” Kostya says.

“Her bedroom’s the first door on the right,” I tell him. “Check there first. Rikki⁠—”

We all collectively hear a sound, a strangled yell followed by the tell-tale noise of struggle. Shuffling, thumping feet against a floor or a wall. I start toward the noise and Rikki yells, “Three o’clock!”

To my right a door opens and one of Slavik’s men walks through, gun in hand. He aims it at me, but he’s slow on the draw. I turn and shoot, hitting him in the neck. He stumbles back, hand going to his neck as blood spurts through his fingers.

And more show up, some through the front door behind us, one on the landing. Kostya jumps behind a couch as the one on the landing opens fire while Rikki shoots at the two coming out of the foyer.