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"We’re ready," Maxim says with pride.
I nod sharply. "Let's go pay Yevgeniy a visit he won’t fucking forget."
When I arrived, I was alone in my black Escalade. Ten cars leave my mansion. We form a single line, bumper to bumper, along the quiet strip of asphalt that leads from my secluded mansion towards the city. From above we'd form an elegant shape. Like the geese, I think suddenly. The image sticks in my brain.
I'm at the front of the pack, and when we reach the first split, I speak into my phone hooked up to my car's Bluetooth system. "Split up and maintain dispersion. We don’t need to look too obvious. I want every bit of surprise we can get"
"Ponil," Maxim responds, and relays the order to the others.
When I pull down a backstreet, an engine revs loudly near my tail light.
A motorcycle pulls beside me, the helmet a mix of white and blue. It matches the moto jacket zipped to their chin. The rider turns to me and signals me to roll my window down. When I do, she yanks the helmet off, and shakes out her hair. It’s Mila.
"When did you get the new gear?" I ask her.
"How I spend my money is none of your business. I'm going to go ahead, scope the situation out."
"Be careful," I warn her. “Eto moi prikaz.”
Instead of answering she covers her face again. The motorcycle roars like a grizzly bear, and she zips off around the corner, leaving my sight. At the speed she's going, she risks getting pulled over. I stare at the streak of rubber she left. She's eager to get to the scene. This fight isn't just about Galina.
Mila wants Yevgeniy to rot in a hole as much as I do.
She's the one who's been accusing ME of being suicidal.
Is that why she splurged on brand new motorcycle gear? To enjoy it in case this was her last ride?
Crushing the steering wheel, I press harder on the gas. I refuse to allow her to die for me. I'm done burying my friends.
It's not long before I dip through a section of the city that borders a number of old factories. The ocean frames my right side, the waves loud as they crash, refusing to be frozen by the icy weather. It's a relief it's not snowing—and I pick up speed around another bend in the road, passing by a number of barren stripes of dirty land.
The road splits again and I glance at my tracker, turning further away from the water. Yevgeniy has positioned himself on the outskirts of everything. Before I see the actual building, he's barricaded himself in, I spot Mila.
She stands on the edge of the road, her helmet hooked on the handlebar of her motorcycle, waving frantically at me.
Parking behind her I jump out of my car. "We're still half a mile from where we need to go."
Her lips shape into a severe frown. "He’s got a whole damn perimeter of cops around this place."
All the muscles in my upper back clench. Gazing over the horizon, I try to glimpse what she's talking about, but there are too many half-finished buildings blocking the view.
"Looks like Josh wasn't as effective as he made it sound," I grumble.
"You think he’s gone back on the deal?" she asks.
"No. If they're here, it's because they were already Yevgeniy’s men to start with." Popping my trunk, I unzip my large bag, shouldering my rifle. "Time to see if they’re really that willing to die for him."
Mila taps her fingertips on her mouth. "That’s risky."
"There's no other option."
Gravel crunches behind me; one by one the cars packed with my soldiers arrive. They park quickly, and exit even faster.
"At least we have the element of surprise," Mila chuckles.
"That we do," I say, motioning at the multitude of armed men all lining up in the road, ready to heed any instruction I give them. "I forced Yevgeniy out of his position as Pakhan once. I’m going to make it permanent this time."
My men’s faces light up with pride when they hear me. Maxim cocks his gun, his chin high as he waits for more instruction. Some of the others let out soft murmurs of excited agreement. Each of them is a coiled spring, ready to leap forth.
