Page 123 of Fractured Ties

It was the sight of a black car pulling up to the mouth of the alleyway that quieted the brothers and the chatter of the other waiting men. All heads turned in that direction as Vadim stepped out of the back of the car. Kolya didn’t miss how his father’s gaze drifted over each of the men but him—he didn’t exist to Vadim at all.

Kolya wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about that or not.

“Are we ready?” Vadim asked.

Konstantin arched a brow. “We?”

Vadim nodded. “You didn’t think you would get anywhere but a war with the Albanians if you went in on them at their main meeting hub without your Pakhan, did you?”

“We have reason to—”

“Get killed, yes. Quite aware, Konstantin. I’ll come in once you’ve cleared the place to sit down with Saban. The Albanian leader is not going to take kindly to this action against him, but perhaps I could ease him into less violence once it’s said and done, no?”

Vadim didn’t care about what happened after this. Of that, Kolya was most sure. But who in the fuck was he to speak against his father’s choices? He’d done that enough lately. No need to go poking that monster more than he already had.

“Fine,” Kolya uttered, moving away from Konstantin’s side, “then let’s get this shit show started.”

And find Maya.

Vadim once again acted as though Kolya hadn’t spoken at all, but he wasn’t concerned about that. He had other things on his mind to focus on now—violent things. His fingers twitched and itched with the need to get hot, sticky blood coating his skin, while the sound of pain echoed in his eardrums.

Next to getting Maya back, that was going to do wonders for his mood. Kolya was sure of it.

Kolya slipped into the black car that he was using for the night and gunned the engine when Konstantin stopped to chat with Vadim for a moment. He didn’t have time for this fucking shit. His brother passed him a warning look, but Kolya gunned the engine again.

His silent order to move.

Konstantin gave one last nod to Vadim—who knew what the two were talking about—before he joined Kolya in the car. The two-block drive to a dive bar owned by the Albanians passed in silence. The Albanians used the business for all their organization meetings and as a main hub for most other things. Konstantin said nothing and barely moved at all except to resituate his and Kolya’s rifles.

Less talking was better.

Talking only pissed Kolya off.

While Konstantin and Kolya drove, the others had to walk. That way, it would seem like the Boykovs weren’t actually prepared at all to storm the bar. The Albanians would be distracted by their presence and wouldn’t notice the ten other men slipping through the front, side, and rear entrances before it was too late.

“All right, let’s get to it, yeah?” Konstantin muttered as Kolya parked. “Try to rein in the crazy until we actually get some usable info or we’re all going to be fucked, brat. Including her.”

Konstantin didn’t give Kolya a chance to respond—to tell him to fuck off; he already knew that—before he pushed open the door and stepped out. Kolya didn’t even bother to cut the engine before he got out, too. The leather of his gloves tightened around his hands as he gripped the rifle tighter. Standing slightly shadowed by the corner of a neighboring building with a streetlight busted out above their heads, the Albanian watching the door of the bar couldn’t see them until it was too late, and they’d stepped out of the shadows.

Kolya already had his rifle aimed and his finger wrapped the trigger. It was Konstantin’s voice drifting through his violent thoughts that stopped him from pulling the trigger back.

“Don’t earn us another blood debt, yeah?”

Ah, fuck.

Why did Konstantin always have to make the smart choices?

The Albanian stumbled back against the door.

“Run,” Kolya snarled. “Or we’re all going to get to see what your brains look like when they paint a fucking door after coming out the back of your skull. Run.”

The man did just that.

“See, you could do that more often,” Konstantin muttered as they opened the bar’s front door. “Scare people, I mean. You don’t have to go straight to violence first.”

“Says who?”

Because Kolya liked violence.