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Book 1
Broken Angel
Prologue
Ruslan
Present Day
The distinctive creaking of metal is the only familiar noise I hear these days. The wind gusts crash hard against the walls of the metal fishing shack. I try to hold back my frustrated grunt. It sounds like an old whistle that never seems to stop, and it aggravates me. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’m going to assume it’s been a couple of days, but I’ve been drugged. For all I know, it could be longer.
Truthfully, I don’t remember much about my travels. When I was being lugged into this building or rather a shack, I do remember certain imagery. I recall what looked to be a rusty fishing shed with buoys and nets hanging on the outside. I recall the scent of salty water and hearing birds. Then everything went black again.
After that, I woke up strapped to a chair. My binds aren’t loose in the least bit, and the chair they’ve strapped me to isn’t even metal. It’s as old and rickety as this shack is, and I know I’ll have an advantage at some point. I could move my body back and forth, ultimately crushing the wood behind me and freeing myself, but I want answers. I want to know why Artos betrayed me. And right now, I don’t have that answer, and I’m unsure when I will.
This isn’t the first time I’ve ever been held captive, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. Since my time here, I’ve only seen one person come in and out of the shack. At first, it was like my vision was blurred. I could see a figure, but I couldn’t make out any details. When the man spoke, it was very gravelly, and it sounded like he could’ve very well smoked cigarettes for most of his life.
I notice a clear bag hanging above me, which funnels directly into my right arm. There’s a plethora of solutions they could be filling me up with. I’d like to hope it’s simply saline to keep me hydrated and alive, but it could be poison for all I know. If it’s the latter, it could explain why my vision is still fuzzy. Regardless, when I get out of here, someone’s going to have hell to pay.
I think back to the circumstances that led me here, and even as my memories plague my mind, I have a hard time understanding why Artos betrayed me.
“The Armenians have been here, and I’ve heard they’re intimidating you to do business with them, or rather let them run their business from your gas station?”
The man nods, but then he speaks in a stuttered manner. “Yes, s-sir. I h-haven’t said they c-could do anything. They’re very… very determined to get m-me to do things I don’t w-want to do.” the more this man speaks, the more I don’t feel bad for him.
I begin to walk the aisles of the gas station and start pushing things over, knocking them off the shelves, and then I approach the lighter fluid. I grab a bottle, pop the top off, and pour the liquid all over the place. I put it on the shelves, the merchandise, anywhere I can possibly get a drop of this stuff on.
I take a lighter out of my pocket and flick it on, causing the shop owner’s eyes to widen even further. “Look! I haven’t done a-anything wrong! I am only a man who is trying to s-support his family,” he pleads with me, but his pleas won’t be enough.
“If you work with the Armenians, you will lose everything and have no way to feed your family. Do you understand me? No one who has loyalty to the Umarova family is permitted to do business with my enemies.”
The shop owner nods and goes quiet, but he quickly speaks up. “What of the Celtic who works for you? He doesn’t have your best interests in mind. He works against you. Don’t you know it?” I look into the man’s eyes, and I know a liar when I see one. This man isn’t lying and has everything to lose by telling me this.
Just then, the gas station door opens, and Artos comes walking in. “Boss, I figured you might want a familiar face to deal with this one.”
The shop owner and I stare at each other for a moment, but I break the space between Artos and me. I grab the bastard by the back of the neck and slam him into one of the shelves. His body comes crashing against it, and the shelf hits the floor.
Artos rises and charges toward me. I notice him reaching into his pocket, but I’m trying to keep his body weight off mine. He comes at me full charge, and at the same time, he pushes on me with his left arm, and a prickling sensation shoots down my neck.
I begin to stumble forward, and my vision grows blurry. I hit the ground with a thud and attempt to move my hands, but as I stare at my hands, it looks like they’re melting. I don’t think they are, but my vision is deceiving me. I somehow manage to roll onto my back. The gas station owner is yelling at Artos and vice versa.
“You told me I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, and here he is! You lied to me! Why? Why lie to me when I do work for you!” the gas station owner screams.
Artos reaches for his gun and shoots the owner of the gas station point blank. His body falls to the ground, and blood begins to intermix with the lighter fluid. Artos comes to me, kneels down, and yanks me up by my hair. His smile is sinister as ever, and before I know it, everything is turning black.
A large gust of wind shakes the entire shack, and items from the outside fall and crash against the dock. The door squeaks every time the wind picks up and slows down, and then the door opens wider. For a moment, I think it’s the wind, but as a dark shadow fills the doorframe, I realize it isn’t the wind. It’s the old man.
This time I can make out his face and see him almost as clear as day. Things are still a bit blurry, but not overly so. He has wrinkles in the center of his forehead, and his skin hangs a bit below his chin. Age spots riddle his skin, and he stares at me disgustingly. He runs a hand along his brittle white beard that hangs down to the center of his chest.
“Want to tell me what’s bothering you, old man?” I ask, but my voice doesn’t even sound like it’s my own.
The man shuts the door behind him and latches it with a hook on the top and another on the bottom. As he moves, I realize even though he’s older, he’s quite stocky. “I must need to increase your dosage. You’re too chatty,” the man tells me in broken English with pauses between his words.
“I’m a man deserving of answers.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken to him, and with any luck, he’ll give me some of what I’m looking for. Finding out the IV fluids coming into me have something to do with the dizziness I’m experiencing means I need to move quickly. I don’t have the luxury of waiting until the old man leaves to get out of this mess. I need to act quickly, possibly while he’s here. He might be broad-shouldered and appear like he could handle his own, though I’m confident I can take him on if given the opportunity.
The man shakes his head and scoffs. “You already have them. If only you’d just look.” He begins to walk toward the bag, but I keep him talking. If I can distract him long enough, he might forget about shoving more of this shit in my body.
“Do I? Do I really have them?” I snap at the old man until he’s staring directly at me in the eyes. Good. I have his attention. “One of my best men betrayed me out of the blue. A man whose hands my life has been laid in many times before. He could’ve killed me when he had the chance, but he didn’t, so why does he betray me now? Hmm? Don’t tell me the answer is right in front of me because it’s bullshit.”
