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He began to lead Mr. Sokolov across the club, past the glittering stages toward a narrow, shadowy corridor in the back. Patrons and dancers alike looked him up and down as he passed, but they were hastily shut down with a single withering look from Mr. Sokolov. The two men continued on and disappeared down the dark hallway.
There were numerous locked doors flanking the corridor, behind which elaborate lap dances and private bookings took place. The walls and doors were designed to be thick and somewhat soundproof, lending more privacy to these back rooms. Only the occasional peal of laughter or sensual moan broke through. But Mr. Sokolov was not interested in the steamy side of the business tonight. In fact, as Stan led him along the winding corridor, the taller man cracked his knuckles and flexed his muscles. He rolled his broad shoulders back and straightened his posture, making him look even more intimidating. He raised his arms and twisted them behind his back, lifting his blazer to reveal a quick flash of something shiny and sharp underneath: a knife. Mr. Sokolov appeared to be stretching, preparing himself for some kind of physical effort, but not the sexy kind.
Stan led him to the end of the long corridor, which concluded with another heavy, soundproof door. He fit a key into the lock and turned it until it clicked. With a slight heave of pressure release, the door cracked open.
The bartender turned back to him and said, “All yours, Mr. Sokolov. And, of course, I will personally ensure that the scene is wiped clean when you’re finished. No trace left behind. Our team is quite efficient,” added Stan pointedly.
“Excellent. Leave me to it. This won’t take long,” the man replied with a sly smile.
Stan bowed out of the way and headed back up the corridor, leaving Mr. Sokolov to his private room. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, assumed a cold, cruel expression, and walked into the room, closing the heavy door behind him. It automatically engaged the lock with a resounding click.
The room was larger than the others but decorated in much the same way. There were two velvety armchairs and a plush leather sofa with a chic marble coffee table in between for drinks. Glowing lights illuminated the dark, cave-like space. Music pumped through the speakers and buzzed under the tile floor. But the centerpiece of the room was not a beautiful, half-naked woman enticing him to enter. Instead, there was a red-faced, bug-eyed man bound with rope to one of the chairs, a gag tightly wound around his head and digging into his mouth. He began to struggle feverishly against his restraints and vocalize incoherently when he laid eyes on the tall, dark man. He was panicking and nearly rocking the chair back and forth.
Meanwhile, Mr. Sokolov appeared to enjoy the man’s fear as he slowly approached him. The captive had absolute terror in his eyes when the powerful man lifted his blazer to pull out a long, gleaming blade and hold it up in front of his face.
“You know who I am,” he growled.
The frightened man nodded.
“So you know why I’m here.”
The guy’s eyes widened even more, and he began to shake his head violently. But Mr. Sokolov immediately pressed the tip of the blade to the man’s throat, and he went still. The guy took shallow breaths as the knife’s edge trailed delicately up his neck. Then, in one swift movement, the knife slashed upward. The man shouted in terror, but only the gag fell away from his face, cleanly sliced in half.
Realizing he wasn’t dead yet, the captive began pleading for his life.
“Don’t do it! I-I’m sorry! I’ll never show my face here again, I swear!” he gasped.
Mr. Sokolov was unmoved. “The time for apologies has long passed.”
“It was just a mistake! I’ll never do it again, please!”
“A mistake happens once. Maybe twice if you’re an idiot,” the powerful man said, bending to lean into the guy’s fearful face. “More than that, and you’ve got yourself a bad habit.”
“I’ve learned my lesson! I’m a changed man!”
Mr. Sokolov laughed, but there was no real mirth in it. His eyes remained steely and cold. He traced the knife along the man’s jawline, never breaking eye contact.
“What a joke. There aren’t enough ‘lessons’ in the world to teach a Baranov common decency,” he hissed.
The color drained from the captive’s face. Mr. Sokolov grinned.
“That’s right. I know who sent you,” he said. “You thought you could slip into the crowd, gather intel, report back to your coward of an Avtoritet, and get a leg up on us. I bet you were proud of this assignment. It’s not every day a worthless grunt like you gets to hang around the Pearl on the boss’s dime, ogling our women and taking up space. But you couldn’t even get that right. Not surprised in the least that a Baranov man can’t hold his liquor.”
“I’m sorry! I never meant to hurt that girl. I just… It got out of hand,” the guy claimed.
“Not only were you spying on us. Not only did you drink too much and cause a scene on multiple occasions, jeopardizing our bottom line. But you had the nerve to lay your hands on one ofourgirls,” the dark-haired man went on. “What did you think? That you could rob her blind, leave her beaten and bruised, and get away with it?”
By now, the captive was tearful. His inevitable fate was closing in on him. Mr. Sokolov pressed the tip of his blade against the man’s throat… hard.
“I know I’m a screw-up, but come on, man!” he blubbered. “Have some mercy!”
“The bouncers here showed you plenty of mercy when they threw your ass out instead of dismembering you piece by piece,” he snarled back coldly. “You’ve had your fun with them. Now it’smyturn.”
The captive seemed delirious with fear. He had rounded the corner, from teary pleading to defiance. He knew he was finished. All that was left now were the final words.
“I should’ve killed that bitch when I had the chance,” he sneered.
Mr. Sokolov narrowed his sharp gaze and pushed the knife harder into the man’s skin, just shy of breaking the surface. “You can take those regrets to the grave, you Baranov bastard. But I have to know… How could you be stupid enough to wander willingly into our territory? You have your own strip clubs to desecrate.”
