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At his back are Kirill and Maxim Volkov, along with Huck and Baker. Kirill stands at the head of the Volkov Bratva, but I wouldn’t underestimate any of the men in his closest circle. They are all deadly, and with the connection Baker has with a group of mercenaries the DSMC is familiar with, their power has more reach than we probably even know.
Kirill booms, “Glad you guys were able to join the party.”
The man in the chair lets out a groan, clearly not happy to see us and the corner of my lip twitches at the fear coming off him. None of us are wearing our cuts. By the way that the man in the hot seat is looking at us—at least out of his one good eye—he knows who we are just the same.
“As you can see, we found a rat in our organization,” Kirill’s tone has a hint of boredom which doesn’t match the way his eyes glitter with malicious intent.
“What kind of rat?” Spark’s voice is gleeful. “Extermination is a personal pleasure.”
“Well,” Kirill’s grin is sinister, “you see, Alek here has ties to the Morozov family.” He tsks as the man starts to struggle in the chair and red starts to cloud my vision. “He’s a distant cousin of Mikhail, Anatoly Morozov’s son. Since Anatoly is now dead,” Alek lets out a growling sound that I’m sure he wishes was intimidating but is only sad, “Mikhail has been trying to gain enough power and momentum to avenge his father.”
“A noble, but misguided endeavor,” Spark’s voice dances with barely contained hatred.
“If only his father hadn’t been a piece of shit who needed to be taken down,” Maxim grunts.
Alek says something, but with the tape over his mouth, it’s impossible to hear him. Baker reaches over and rips the tape from his lips quickly and not at all gently. The little yip of protest Alek lets out is just fucking pathetic.
I widen my stance and cross my arms across my chest.
I hope we can get through this quickly. I should be spending time with my woman, but I’m here instead.
It’s been a little over a week since the party at the clubhouse and I am not a happy man when I don’t get to spend the night cuddling with my woman. Call me a sap if you want, but I don’t fucking care.
I need her like the air I fucking breathe. She calms me and makes it so the pain in my soul isn’t debilitating. It still aches and it sure as fuck isn’t gone, but she makes it bearable.
But instead of being curled up with Rebel as she watches whatever she wants on TV while I watchher, I’m here looking at a piece of shit whose death will be a gift to humanity.
“He was sent in to spy on you and report back to Mikhail,” Spark surmises.
“None of us liked him from the beginning,” Kirill explains. “But he was able to hide his true identity and his connection to Morozov well.”
Huck’s chuckle is dark, making Alek still in his chair even as he glares with hatred in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we didn’t keep digging.” Huck gives Penance a chin lift, “With a little help.”
Penance’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t give anything else away. Over the years he’s learned to lock his emotions away. When we first found him, he was a ball of anger, one we gave a purpose to. He took to my mission of ridding the city of traffickers to balance the scales for what he did to Evelyn.
He became broody and cold, but not like I did. He had a purpose that went beyond revenge, unlike me. I didn’t understand what else drove him, even after Evelyn came back into his life. Now that I have Rebel, I get it.
His soul was incomplete and now it’s whole.
I had no idea I could find the same, but I have. I’m grateful as hell for it.
“Fuck you,” Alek spits, bringing my attention back to him and away from thoughts of my beauty waiting for me at home.
Kirill chuckles and shakes his head. “Posturing won’t save you. Nothing will,” there’s a threat in his voice.
Kirill reaches out and grips the back of Alek’s head, tilting his head back and making the man grunt in pain. I have no doubt the grip he has on him is punishing. No less than the man deserves.
One of the things both the Volkov men and we understand is loyalty. We are loyal to the club and to the brothers within it.
It’s one of the reasons you normally prospect for a year before earning your patch. We don’t take it easy on prospects. They get the worst jobs at the worst times, and we don’t give a fuck about pushing them too hard.
Hell, we want to push them to where their breaking point should be, and then a little beyond. If they really do break, if they put the club or the brothers at risk, and can’t fall in line, then they will never earn their place at our sides.
We must know and trust the men we stand next to. Loyalty is what binds us together and what keeps us afloat.
I’m the only Devil’s Saints member who earned his patch before my year of prospecting was over. I don’t know if it’s something to be proud of, but that’s how it went down anyway.
After going to the club for help with my sister, rescuing her along with some other women, and tracking down the immediate ring, I proved to my brothers not only my loyalty, but how far I was willing to go for justice. That’s why I earned my patch.
