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I think about his words but decide against them. “I don’t want to wait for shit. I could give a fuck. Rostam will understand and if he doesn’t, I’ll take his ass out too. And she’s not legally married to him. Their contract is bullshit and all the people who brokered it are dead anyway.”
Osip grunts, but he doesn’t try to stop me, not when I walk into my office, then into my walk-in gun safe, and not when I make my way to the front door, my gun case in hand. Turning my head, I look back at him.
“Stay here until I get back? Keep her safe?” I ask.
“You know that I will,” he says with a dip of his chin.
Giving him a small smile, I turn my back and walk out of the condo. I leave my woman with him, with Dr. Samuil. I know that she’s safe. I know that she’ll be taken care of. And now I’m going to ensure that she stays that way. BecausefuckAzar.
Driving toward Azar’s, I know that’s where he’ll be. He is probably out looking for Isabel, no doubt assuming that his beating would keep her bedridden and compliant for a good long while. He thought fucking wrong.
Isabel is strong as fuck, she’s amazing and a true fucking queen. He never deserved her, not at sixteen and not now. She is Bratva through and through. Strong and smart, and meant for more than just being Azar’s… whatever the fuck she is to him.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to his house. There are a few cars parked in front, but I don’t see his. That doesn’t mean anything, he could have his parked in the garage. He seems like someone who would have his car in the garage and have his wives park outside.
Parking across the street, I watch. My gun is in its case next to me on the seat. I’m not ready to get to work quite yet. Typically, I would have a complete plan for a hit, I’ve been taught to always do my research. But this is different. This is personal, and fuck research, this asshole needs to die.
The front door of the home opens and I watch as a woman steps out, followed by several children. Then another woman is behind her, followed by some children as well. I may be able to get this shit done without the women and children being home, that would be optimal.
Typically, I try not to traumatize children as much as possible, though I’m pretty sure Azar has already traumatized his family in more ways than one over the years. Killing their shit father in front of them probably wouldn’t faze them at all.
Then I see him. He doesn’t follow them out of the house. Instead, he stands on the front porch and watches as they all climb into the two vehicles. They pull away and as soon as they’re gone, he slips back into the house.
I have no fucking clue why he hasn’t gone with them, and I don’t give a fuck either. Taking my gun out of the case, I put it together, making sure to add my brand-new suppressor. Unfolding from the car, I shove the barrel into the front of my pants in an attempt not to look like I’m carrying a gun across the street toward Azar’s home.
I’m certain that there is camera surveillance all around me, so I’m positive that Azar knows I’m here before I even lift my hand and ring the doorbell. Azar opens the door, his eyes finding mine.
“Russian,” he announces. “Can I fucking help you? Or are you here to tell me where my fucking wife is?”
He doesn’t know who I am, if he did, he would already have taken a shot at me. He knows I’m Russian, that’s about it. I decide not to educate him. I don’t really give a fuck. Instead, as fast as I can, before he realizes what’s happening, I take my gun out of my pants and point it directly at his forehead before pulling the trigger.
Azar falls to the floor, still inside his own home. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I put in a call to Osip. “It’s done. He’s got cameras. Any way to get these taken care of before his women return from wherever they went?” I ask.
There is a moment of silence, then he lets out a grunt. “Yeah, get out of there and come back home. I’ll handle it before you’re even back here.”
“Thanks.”
“Ruslan?” Osip calls out before I end the call. “This could start shit. But I’m glad that you have found the woman you’ll kill for.”
“I have.”
“Don’t make it a habit.”
He ends the call, and I can’t help but chuckle as I walk toward my car. Slipping inside, I place my gun back in the case and start the engine before I head toward home.
Toward Isabel. Myluchik. My future wife.
