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“Everyone ready?” Stefan asks.
I stretch my neck, gun in hand. I’m more than fucking ready. “Let’s do this.”
Half of the men, followed by Stefan and Joe, move around the back of the building, keeping to the edge of the darkness. The rest of the men and Nikolai, along with Dante, Romero, and I, move toward the front. The second Stefan gives Dante his signal, we step into the light.
It takes the men at the doors a few seconds to realize we’re not here for the show. Two of the guys raise their guns, while another speaks on his mic, no doubt alerting the men inside that we’re here.
Our men have taken out the two men who had their guns raised. They never got a chance to fire a bullet. The moment they raised their guns, they were dead. By the time we reach the entrance of the bar, more of the Bratva traitors have surfaced.
I’m a step behind Dante, but when I see that motherfucking Russian bastard’s hand move as he gets closer, the flash of steel, I pick up speed. My fingers close around the cunt’s wrist, andI savagely twist, hearing the pop and groan of pain. Fucking bastard. No one tries to take out my brother—the boss. I fire my gun into the cunt’s chest and release him. He falls to the ground, dead before he even hits it.
I’m surprised at how many of the men are turning against their boss. This is what happens when people are fed up with the lies and bullshit told by a greedy motherfucker. They believe said lies and end up looking like schmucks. Now look at them. Most of them are lying on the ground with bullet holes in their bodies.
I step over the dead and into the bar. It’s silent. Not a fucking sound to be heard. Everyone is cowering under tables, clutching each other. They’re trying to stay out of sight. They want to survive, and the only way to do that is not get in our way.
“Boss,” Stefan says, his eyes dark and his lips pulled into a harsh line. “We’ve cleared the back rooms. No one is here. There’s only upstairs left.”
I don’t wait around to see what’s going to be said next. I turn on my heel and head for the stairs. I know the layout of this place like the back of my hand. When I was working to get close to Maksim for my father, I spent the majority of my time around the Russians, and this was one of the places I frequented a lot. They haven’t done any updates since then.
I’m careful not to put to much pressure on my foot as I make my way up the staircase. I put my gun away and reach for my knife. I’m even more deadly with this than I am with a gun. It’s always better to kill up close and personal. There’s only one person in the hall, standing guard. He’s not doing a good enough job, since there's only one exit and I’m using it, yet he’s watching the doors behind him.
I creep up on him. The fucker has no idea I’m here. I slide my knife into his side, much like I did with Annika. He’s dead before I pull it back out.
“Which door?” Romero asks as he comes to stand beside me. There are four rooms.
“We take one each. That way, no one gets past us,” Nikolai says. “Whoever finds the boy is to protect him with their life.”
I nod, grateful the man is here, despite all the shit that’s happened between us. He’s been a fucking huge help in us getting to this point. If it wasn’t for him and Yelena, we’d still be thinking this had something to do with Maksim, or even wondering who the fuck it was. But because of them, we were able to get the information we needed quicker than even I could have expected.
On the count of three, we burst through the doors. I grit my teeth when I see Taras standing in the middle of the room, a beaten Maksim standing against him with a gun pointed at his head. I hear grunts and curses coming from the other rooms, and I shake my head.
The fucker set this up. No matter what room anyone entered, they’d have been ambushed.
“Alessio,” Taras greets with a smile.
Before I’m able to say anything, a man comes at me. From recollection, I remember the guy as being one of Maksim’s men. Daniel. Someone who was one of his better fighters. The man has been with the Bratva for years. He seemed loyal, but obviously not.
He comes at me hard and fast, landing a wicked punch to my side. It takes the breath from me. But I was trained. I’m ready for this. I shake it off quickly, and knife still in hand, I slice through his jugular with a brutal swipe.
I don’t have time to recover, because yet another fucker comes at me. He’s stronger and faster than Daniel. He’s been trained by the best, and it shows. I dodge punch after punch, jab after jab. He’s vicious with his pacing, but I’m determined. Ineed to get to my son, and he’s the only thing that stands in the way of me and Taras. I will not fail.
He throws another jab, one which I duck, stabbing my knife into his thigh before righting myself. He howls in pain, his hand slapping against the wound. It gives me the perfect opportunity to aim for his chest. It’s quick and easy. I thrust my hand forward, pushing the knife deep into his chest.
Taras throws his head back and laughs. “Well done!” He grins. “You have exceeded my expectations. Over the past five years, you have grown in strength. I’m impressed.”
I pull the knife out of the fucker’s chest and move forward. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you, Taras. You got greedy. Five years ago, you were just a guy who was hanging on the outskirts of the bratva. You did well getting Annika to marry you.”
He shrugs. “That woman was begging for love. She was jealous of her cousin. It was easy to get her to do as I wanted.”
“Then you fucked up. You came after my family.” I shake my head and tut. “Had you left us alone, you’d have probably taken over as the Pakhan, but now you’re going to die.” I throw my knife at him and reach for my gun. My blade lands in his shoulder, causing him to release Maksim and howl in pain.
“You’re going to die,” Taras growls as he steps forward. I fire the gun twice. One hits his chest, the other his forehead.
“He’s dead, Ales,” Rome says as he lays a hand on my shoulder.
“Too fucking easy,” I say as I turn on my heel and make my way out of the room. I need to find my son.
That bastard got an easy death. If I didn’t have Anthony and Gabriella to worry about, I’d have taken the cunt somewhere and tortured him mercilessly. Instead, he’s gotten away with a couple of bullets.
