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When I hit four, Maxim spits out an address.
I study him, my grip tightening, aware this could cost me more than him. The putrid scent of urine fills the cell.
I smile, then pull the trigger. Blood blooms from the hole in Maxim’s head, spreading in a crimson stain that spills down his neck and soaks into his shirt.
When I let go, his body slumps against the stone wall. I spin and walk out of the cell, not bothering to shut the door. There’s no one to contain any longer.
“He could have been lying.”
Until he speaks, I hadn’t realized Roman followed me down here.
“He wasn’t.” I have to believe that. Maxim swore loyalty to me, same as his father swore to mine. Rebellion usually reaches a point. Especially when you chose the losing side. “And if he was, I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground.”
Drawing out Maxim’s anguish would have been satisfying, but it wouldn’t have accomplished my main goal—getting to Lyla and Leo as quickly as possible. It’s unlikely he would have cracked after weeks or months of torture. And by then, I don’t want to imagine what could have happened.
Maxim was the only leverage I had.
Dmitriy’s whereabouts were the only leverage Maxim had.
Either those interests worked together or I’ll have to pick this city apart piece by piece until I find them. If Dmitriy isn’t where Maxim said he is, I’ll use every resource I have to find him. Unlike Dmitriy, I’m not hiding in the shadows. There isn’t a person in this city who will protect him if they know it will come with the lash of my wrath.
Roman nods. “Dmitriy won’t have more than twenty trained men, at most. We’ll have triple that.”
I nod. “I’m going in alone.”
“You know I have to tell you that’s a stupid fucking idea, boss.”
“You know I’ll do it anyway.”
Roman sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
“The odds are in my favor,” I remind him.
Growing up, I was always stronger and faster than Dmitriy despite just being a few months older. It probably fed into this penultimate moment, but there’s fuck all I can do about that now.
“Get Grigoriy here and update him on the situation. Once I know if they’re there or not, I’ll be in touch. And if I don’t make it out and they do—”
“They’ll be safe and taken care of. You have my word,” Roman says, his expression grim.
I head upstairs without another word. Time is of the essence now, especially with so many unknowns.
The warehouse is emptier than it was when I arrived this morning, but a dozen or so of my men are around, most of them huddled and talking. I’m not surprised word has already spread about what happened. Attacks on aPakhan’s family are rare and rarely successful. For the most part, it’s a suicide mission. Perpetrated by someone hell-bent on revenge with no care for the consequences.
I’m slightly mollified by the knowledge Dmitriydoescare. He wants something more than revenge. Simply killing me won’t accomplish what he’s aiming for. He needs to do it in a way that impresses and proves he’s superior.
Kidnapping an innocent woman and child won’t do him any favors. Even among criminals, there’s a moral code. He decided to involve Lyla and Leo because he knew it would be a guaranteed way to draw me out. And I was stupid enough to think twelve men would be enough. I should have been the one driving Leo to and from school.
It takes me ten minutes to speed to the address Maxim provided.
The building is nice. By a Morozov’s standard’s, it’s a hovel. I ignore the elevator and take the stairs. Dmitriy will have taken the top floor.
There are two units to choose between when I exit the stairwell. I veer left first, debating on whether to kick the door in or not. In case I chose wrong, I don’t want to give Dmitriy any extra warning. If I chose right, it will save time.
I close my hand around the brass doorknob and send up a silent prayer to a greater power I’m not sure I believe in. There’s also a chance this is a trap Dmitriy set up weeks ago and I’m about to set it off. I’d rather put a bullet in my brain than abandon my family. So, I twist the handle.
To my shock, it opens. As soon as a crack appears, I realize why. The sickening scent of decay hits me first, followed by a pair of legs that turn into a male body when I push the door fully open.
As twisted as it is, hope springs in my chest. Killing for sport has often been Dmitriy’s style. This suggests there is a chance he’s actually in the building.
