“Couldn’t sleep.”
He barely had time to blink. I slipped behind him, hand over his mouth, blade sliding up between his ribs with surgical ease. He sagged into me, gurgling. I eased him to the ground and moved on.
Two more guards. Same routine. Friendly greeting. Quick stab through the kidney. One of them looked me dead in the eye before the life drained out of him.
My men took the others—no noise, no mess. Just corpses in the dark.
Afterward, I stepped into the staff bathroom and washed my hands, scrubbing under the nails. Blood swirled pink into the basin.
I dried my hands. Straightened my collar.
Time for dessert.
The door to the lounge opened and the scent hit me first—sweat, perfume, sex. Sashko and the other two waited just outside, unseen. They hadn’t been invited to the party, so barging in would’ve raised alarms. I left the door cracked—just enough for them to see, to know exactly when to strike. Loud music pulsed through the floor, bass like a heartbeat. The room was red-lit and hazy, silk curtains swaying like ghosts.
Girls draped themselves over sofas and laps. Thighs spread, lips parted. Some wore lingerie; others nothing but heels and collars.
Pakhan’s men were already deep in it. One had a girl riding his face while another stroked himself lazily, watching. A third bent a blonde over a low table and fucked her in slow, brutal thrusts as she moaned into the cushion.
A few girls were on their knees, taking turns with cocks in each hand, like a choreographed act of worship. Champagne dripped down cleavage, onto the floor, pooling in sticky patches.
My men were in the thick of it too, cocks out and hands greedy. No one questioned them. They looked like part of the filth—and that was the point. No one suspects the man moaning into a whore’s throat is two heartbeats from murder.
I scanned the room—half of them were too high to notice anything but flesh and noise.
Pakhan was halfway to a heart attack—lounging shirtless, drenched in sweat, with one girl grinding into his knee and another spitting in her palm as she jerked him off,both soaked and pliant like he hadn’t just trafficked half their friends. Disgust curled in my gut. It made what came next easy.
I walked toward him, slow and steady.
He looked up and grinned. “You came. Good. Pick any girl you want. They’re wet and obedient tonight.”
I didn’t smile. “I already have what I want.”
Then I struck—backhanded him across the temple with the hilt of my knife. His head snapped to the side, and he collapsed, unconscious, cock still twitching.
That was the signal.
Behind me, shadows moved.
My men rose from their positions mid-fuck and started slitting throats.
One sliced a man’s neck from behind while still buried inside a girl. Another drove a blade straight through the temple of a moaning guard.
For a few seconds, no one noticed. The music throbbed. The girls kept moaning. Blood sprayed onto bouncing asses, onto sweat-slick chests.
It only changed when one of them screamed. Her client went slack beneath her, choking, blood bubbling from his mouth and spilling over her breasts as she tried to pull away too late.
Then the chaos began.
Girls shrieked, heels slipping in puddles of blood. They stumbled, covered in gore, mascara streaked with terror. One tried to run and tripped over a body. Another fainted on the spot.
A girl still crouched by Pakhan, lips trembling, eyes wide.
I pointed. “Fix his pants. Zip the bastard up.”
She blinked like she didn’t hear me.
I stepped closer. “Now. Before I lose my patience.”
