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I enter the house through the front door with a key. Yeah, that’s how special this man is. I even got a key to keep it quiet. Shutting the door behind me, I adjust my silencer on my 9mm and walk quietly as a mouse toward the living room. There he is, sleeping on the couch without a care in the world as if he didn’t fuck over the Bratva. Stupid fucker, he’s about to die ad he doesn’t even know it. Or maybe he does, but he’s resigned.
I stand in front of him for what feels like hours, when in fact it’s only a few minutes, and wait for him to feel watched. He doesn’t, and I’m losing my patience. I walk up to him and kneel in front of the couch, then shove my gun in his mouth. That wakes him up quickly and he screams, probably from the pain of broken teeth, even though it’s muffled by the weapon.
“Last words?”
The man closes his eyes, his breathing ragged, his fists clenched. The smell of urine permeates the air, and I shake my head. It’s not like he can talk anyway, and it’s usually a rhetorical question. He probably thinks this time it is too, but I was genuine when I asked him. I’m hoping it’s something like ‘fuck you’ or ‘go ahead and kill me already’ so I don’t have to feel any guilt. When they beg and talk about their family, I start feeling things I shouldn’t. It’s not that it stops me, even though I’m human. Some things just affect you at times.
A tear escapes his eye, and I pull the trigger. Blood splatters everywhere behind him, on the couch, and on my clothes somehow. It’s messy. All death is. I text the cleaners from my burner phone, take a picture of the scene, and leave the house, thankful that I’m wearing gloves. The cleaners will be careful with the house and then dispose of the body. Hopefully, no one misses him too much, but usually people do. We’re weak beings, so eventually, someone will come knocking.
Once out of the house, I remove my gloves and stick them in my pocket, then head to my car at a steady pace. It’s a good thing it’s three in the morning, and no one will know I was here. My shirt is soaked in blood so I take it off as well once I get in the car, not wanting it on my leather seats and immediately put everything in a plastic bag.
Now I have to report back for my coin, the currency to prove my job is done. It’s funny how the faculty and administration at Atlantic University are all involved in our world. The school has been around for decades, catering to the families of crime lords. The Dean of the school is the one who calls me in for the jobs and then hands me the coins when they’re confirmed.
It’s a little ironic how this all works, but here I am, paying for sins that were not committed on purpose. If I had done it with ill intent, I would say it and own up to it, but no. I was set up and forced to commit a mistake. One that has cost me a lot. Like my life and my dignity, as well as my conscience. The guilt of killing someone so young eats me alive every day, and the worst part is it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t supposed to be there.
It was Leo.
I won’t be intimidated by him or made to feel like I’m beneath him, and once I’m done with this job I’ve been forced into, he’s got something coming, that’s for sure.
He’s going to regret ever crossing me.
I pull up to the university, park in the staff lot, and then walk to the Dean’s office. I’m surprised the doors are unlocked this late, but I guess he doesn’t live in fear with the kind of protection he must have by working for The Elite. I wouldn’t be this trusting though, fuck that.
The hallways are dark and eerie, and if it weren’t for my gun I’d feel creeped out and like someone is going to jump me at any second. However I keep the gun tucked at my hip with my hand right over it, locked and loaded.
I knock on the door he keeps ajar for me, and he beckons me to enter. “Mr. Armstrong,” I greet him and he nods in return. “The job is complete. Cleaners are there.”
“Let me see the text.”
“Here.” I hand over my burner phone with proof of death from the cleaners, a picture of the body all bloodied up.
Mr. Armstrong nods again—it’s about the only thing he knows how to do to communicate—and reaches into his desk. The silver coin twinkles when he pulls it out, the desk lamp shining on it, and he hands it over. My hand wraps around it like it’s my lifeline—because it is—and I put it in my pocket to add to my collection.
“Thanks,” I say, turning around to leave the office and go home. “Have a good night.”
“You’re almost done with this, Nikolai. I just want you to know I’m proud of how you’ve handled this. Don’t fuck it up.”
I peer at him over my shoulder, nod, then walk out. I won’t entertain him, especially since he’s fishing. He knows I’m not going to sit here and wait for Karma while Leonardo Colombo walks the Earth as if nothing ever happened. Nothing happenedtohim, yet it did to me and his fiancée.
I saw how devastated she was at her brother’s funeral. I watched from afar. It only sent a pang of guilt through me, seeing how gutted she was, knowing that she hated me now and I couldn’t help her get through this. And I don’t blame her if she hates me, but I also don’t think she even knows I killed her brother by the way she’s treating me. Iwantto help her get through this while also getting my revenge. Is it possible?
Not only do I want Leonardo to die, I want to squash his ego, crush his dignity just the way he did to me. Then, when he’s dead, I’ll have two choices: drop her or keep her. I bet he’ll be turning in his grave when he sees us fucking from the afterlife.
As soon as I step out of the office, my biggest nightmare comes to life.
My father, Oleg, pushes me back into the Dean’s office. Mr. Armstrong strolls out like it’s just another day at his job, and I suppose it is. No one fucks with the Elite. Nerves dance in my stomach when he closes the door, and I don’t know what to expect. I don’t see my father often, and now he drops in unannounced?
“Nikolai.” He acknowledges me.
“Father,” I snarl.
“I heard you’re almost done with your coins.” Oh, so that’s why he’s here. To make sure I don’t fuck this up.
“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint you.”
“You already do that with little effort.” He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. So I return it with one of my own. “Do not embarrass me. You will get this done as soon as possible.”
I nod once. “As soon as I get another call, I will achieve this.”
